Darkest Blue
by Katrinea
Summary: The rescue of Orihime has failed, and Ichigo finds himself entirely at Aizen's mercy... Or lack thereof. Will Urahara be able to save him in time? Warning: contains explicit content, swearing, angst, dark themes and NC/abuse in later chapters. UraIchi, AizenIchi, GrimmHichigo.
1. Its Not the End of the World

**Darkest Blue**

I wanted to have a go at writing in this vein, after reading so many others. It's one of my favourite 'Bleach' fanfic plots, the imprisonment of Ichigo as his quest into Las Noches fails, and the 'unorthodox' ways in which Aizen attempts to make him submit to his rule. So it goes without saying that it contains unhealthy doses of one sided, non-con AizenxIchigo. I plan to later work in some UraIchi (my favourite 'Bleach' pairing.) As you can expect, there is a large amount of angst, swearing, abuse, non-con and dark themes, so if you don't like that sort of thing, don't read it!

That all been said, this is my very first multi-chapter fanfic (*gulp*). So forgive me if the plotline is unoriginal, and I hope you enjoy it regardless. **–Constructive- **criticism is very welcome, so fire away, I'd love to know what you think of it.

'_I keep fading into you, drowning in your Darkest Blue.'_

_ - 'Darkest Blue', Lostprophets._

* * *

**Chapter 1: It's Not the End of the World (But I Can See It From Here.)**

'_It's not the end of the world now darling,  
But I can see it from here!  
Oh baby, don't cry tonight, your tears they will bleed.  
Underneath this blood red moon I'm defended by your screams.'_

* * *

'_I forbid it!'  
'Does that mean, you're abandoning Inoue..?'  
'Indeed. There is no point in weighing the life of one person against the fate of the entire world… Your power will be needed in the upcoming battle. I cannot permit you to act selfishly and die like a dog. Stand by until you receive further orders. That is all.'_

Ichigo bit into his nail, on his lips the beginnings of a snarl forming at the memory of the Captain-Commanders cruel words. He earned a sharp glare from Ishida as the Quincy straightened out his cuffs, brushing away imaginary specks of dust from his pristine uniform.

'What?'

'Do you have to look so feral, shinigami? I'm beginning to fear for your sanity.' Ishida quipped. Ichigo gave him the finger and jumped down from the rock he had been sitting upon in Urahara's basement. Being entirely unlike Yoruichi in these matters, he stumbled as his feet hit the ground, and slipped over onto his ass, narrowly missing Chad in the process. Ishida smirked from his position aloft the large boulder as he too alighted, employing a great deal more grace than Ichigo had.

'Show off.' Ichigo taunted, 'OY! PERVERT! WHEN IS THIS THING GOING TO BE READY TO GO?' The pervert in question poked his hatted head around the rock face and threw his striped fan at Ichigo's head.

'It will be ready when it is ready,' Urahara retorted, grinning that stupid grin of his, 'Can I have my fan back now please?' He almost whimpered when Ichigo broke it in half across his knee. 'Why Ichigo, how rude of you! Lucky I always keep a spare.' He grinned, pulling a fan out of some hidden place in his jacket. A scowl graced Ichigo's face, forcing Urahara to relent. In his eyes Ichigo did always look so adorable when he scowled. 'I'd say about another 2 minutes and 34 seconds approximately. Can you told on that long Kur-o-saki?' he teased.

'Hmph. I suppose.' A slight smile twitched at Ichigo's lips, 'Go on then, I'm timing you.'

Urahara smirked, 'Oh Ichigo, you know I just love a challenge.'

2 minutes and 34 seconds later they stood in front of the gaping maw of the garganta, every breath drawing anticipation from their chests and expelling it into the cool air of the training ground. Above them lay Karakura Town. In front, Hueco Mundo and God knows if all of them would return in one piece, or at all. Ichigo shivered briefly, before pushing thoughts of unknown terrors to the back of his mind, his thoughts fixated on Orihime and his resolve to get her out of this mess he had dragged her into.

Urahara stood with them, regretting his decision to not accompany them. He knew Isshin would murder him if anything happened to Ichigo as a result of his sending him toHueco Mundo, and beyond that fear of his old friend, he also knew that if anything happened to the redhead, he'd never forgive himself either. Suffice to say, Urahara had become quite… fond of the boy over the course of their training and, friendship? Could you call it that? He wondered.

'Well, we'd better get going then.' Ichigo was the first to break the uneasy silence, and Urahara silently thanked him for it. His thoughts were straying towards dark places, and he knew he couldn't let his resolve falter, not now at this crucial juncture.

'Ah yes you'd better do! Go on boys, get out of my basement! And, be careful, all of you.' He turned to Ichigo, with a hint of sadness about his usually stoic voice, 'You especially Ichigo. I know what you're like in battle, hot headed and stupid. So take care of yourself and… stay alive. I wouldn't want to be the one to face your father if you don't come back in one piece.'

A blush painting his face that was part embarrassment and part something else, Ichigo muttered, 'Thanks, I'll try.' Ishida glanced between the two men, sighing, and turned to Chad, whispering,  
'Let's get out of here, the amount of pheromones flying about is making me feel ill.'

Urahara smacked Ishida on the head with his fan, messing up his hair before shouting, 'Away with you!' and ushering them all into the threatening dark hole above them. Ichigo turned back briefly to see Urahara waving them farewell with his hat, his eyes shining free from their usual shadowy confines, until the darkness swallowed them completely and he had to concentrate fully on not falling off his silvery path.

Back underneath the Urahara Shōten**,** the shopkeeper pressed a hand to the darkness and said a silent prayer.

* * *

What the hell had happened? Everything was going so well. They'd met up with Rukia and Renji, and they were so close… Then Urahara and Yoruichi had shown up, shouting something about a trap and ushering everybody back through thegarganta**. **He had opened his mouth to protest, to refuse to leave Orihime in this place one minute longer, trap or no trap, but had got no further when the garganta snapped shut around his friends and he was pounced upon by a snarling hunk of muscle, bone and blue hair. He thought he heard Urahara scream, but surely that can't have been right. At any rate, they were gone, all of them. And he was here alone. In enemy territory. Facing off against a creature that wished nothing more than to rip him limb from limb. And somehow Grimmjow had gotten his arm back. Shit. Shit. Shit.

He unsheathed Zangetsu. His hollow screamed for blood. His eyes took on a silver tint as he summoned his mask. Grimmjow snarled, his eyes narrowing. Without even bothering to throw the usual threats and insults, he ran straight at Ichigo, fangs bared. Ichigo swept his zanpakutō up behind his head, summoning all his energy to throw one massive getsuga tenshō at Grimmjow.

'Sorry but I don't have time to play around with you. I'll end this now.' The fierce redhead threatened, swinging his sword downwards only to find it immoveable.

'That's a shame shinigami, but you see, neither do we.' Grimmjow grinned manically as Ichigo glanced behind him to see a dark haired, pale faced hollow with teardrop-like teal lines running down his face holding onto his sword. Then Grimmjow barrelled into him at full force. Bones and skin broke together as all light was knocked from him and Ichigo fell into the dark chasm of unconsciousness.

**To Be Continued...**

* * *

Sorry that the fight scene was so short, I suck at writing them but I'll definitely attempt longer ones in the future. I hope it didn't seem too rushed, but I just wanted to briefly explain how Ichigo came to be captured, as well as setting the scene for some UraIchi later on :3

Feedback would be much appreciated!


	2. Dark Carnival of the Immaculate

**Chapter 2: Dark Carnival Of The Immaculate**

'_The dancing has created a fire,  
Two-headed strong man disgust, desire.  
Midnight (destruct), Break bones (for hire),  
Create (sickness), A war for purity.  
The blood we shared,  
The love we cannot let go,  
(I have you now.)'_

As Aizen stared out over the vast plains of Hueco Mundo, he was impatient, an emotion given away only by the constant drumming of his fingers on the cool armrest of the throne. Those silly little shinigami, he mused, thinking that they could so much as breathe in his kingdom without them knowing. Despite that scientist's attempts to disguise the reiatsu signature of his guests, how could he possibly expect Aizen to fail to notice that a massive hole had been ripped between dimensions, leaving his kingdom open to any ill equipped invaders? He was angered at first, to learn that the detestable man had been a step ahead of him and had managed to get most of the little interlopers to safety. How he knew that there was an ambush waiting, even Aizen had no idea. But it mattered not, for they had the prize, Ichigo Kurosaki. He had been Aizen's goal from the beginning, the only one that he had ordered his espada not to kill. Not that they wouldn't have harmed him, he was sure that Grimmjow would relish the opportunity to deliver some payback to the boy for the loss of the arm that he blamed the substitute shinigami for. But that was good. He wanted Kurosaki harmed, he wanted him scared. That way he would be easier to break. Aizen had big plans for the boy, all that raw power and potential… It was something to make even he get excited over.

'Aizen-sama.' The emotionless voice of Ulquiorra cut into his musings. Aizen turned in his seat and gloated privately at the sight before him. The raven haired espada stood before him, pristine as always. Behind his small frame loomed a more dishevelled Grimmjow, a red and black bundle flung carelessly over his shoulder.

'Ulquiorra… I see the mission was successful…' He smiled coldly.

'Yes, Aizen-sama.'

'Bring him here Grimmjow. I want to see him.'

Grimmjow grunted, flinging the beaten shinigami down at Aizen's feet. He rubbed his face tenderly; a stinging bruise was beginning to form on his cheek.

'Any problems Grimmjow?' Aizen smirked.

'No… sir.' Grimmjow's upper lip curled in disgust towards the unconscious teenager on the floor. Aizen chuckled, leaning over to curl fingers in dirty orange hair, pulling Ichigo's head up level with his face. His eyes fluttered open and shut for a moment, in an attempt to fight off unconsciousness. A sly smile stole across Aizen lips as he traced his finger along the cuts and bruises which adorned Ichigo's face.

'Leave me now.' Aizen commanded, dismissing them without looking up. Ulquiorra nodded while Grimmjow merely turned and stormed out, still rubbing his sore jaw with an enraged look on his face.

'Now… What to do with you…?' Aizen pondered. He didn't expect the traditional methods to be too effective on the boy. Sure, they'd probably work eventually but time was not something to be wasted at this point, and the boy was far too stubborn and loyal to break so easily. No, this was going to require something more. He could threaten that Orihime girl, he was sure that she would be sufficient to bend the shinigami boy to his will, but not enough. He didn't just want him obedient; he wanted him completely submissive. He wanted him broken to his will, and harming the girl would likely only make him more disobedient. Besides, she was too useful to dispose of just yet. Aizen's finger now traced the outlines of Ichigo's lips, surprising full and soft for a teenage boy. He presented a striking image Aizen thought, altogether more so when he was beaten and bloodied as he was now. A soft smile signified that the solution had come to Aizen, and oh, he was so going to enjoy breaking the boy. It was unorthodox, and not at all befitting of Aizen's stature. But needs must, for even he could be persuaded to walk among the lower species for a moment.

Ichigo stirred again, this time his eyes fluttered open and stayed that way. He struggled to focus on anything for a few moments, wondering why his head hurt so much. As things swam into focus and he saw that the face mere inches from his own was that of Sōsuke Aizen, his eyes widened to their limit, and he scrambled backwards as quickly as was possible in his beat up state, hissing as pain shot up his arms and legs, and from the grip in his hair that had not yet loosened.

'Settle down Ichigo, you'll only hurt yourself more than you already are.'

'Fuck you!' Ichigo coughed, spitting up blood onto the polished white floor. He attempted to smack Aizen's hand away from his head, 'You bastard!' Aizen's eyes narrowed as he hit the boys head off of the hard floor in retort, releasing the grip on his blood matted hair. Ichigo stifled a scream as he came in contact with the unforgiving floor, pain erupting inside his head like a volcano. He would've passed out again if Aizen had not dragged him up by his gi.

'Now, are you going to behave? That sort of behaviour will not be tolerated here, especially not from my plaything.' The traitor smiled, smearing his finger in the blood running from the corner of Ichigo's mouth. Ichigo froze, that sentence instilled more fear in him that anything he had encountered so far in Las Noches.

'What are you talking about you psycho?' He spat, 'Why haven't you killed me?' He earned nothing but a harsh slap for his efforts. Ichigo gasped as he tried to catch his breath, and was ashamed to feel tears threatening to gather in his eyes. He blinked them back, determined to show no weakness to this man.

'You will address me as 'Master' from now on, understand?' the ex-captain hissed. 'Because from now on you belong to me.'

Ichigo's blood turned to ice at these words. Breathless, he managed to gasp out,

'… What?'

Another blow to his face.

'Do not make me repeat myself. From now on you shall obey me completely.'

'Oh that's _very_ fucking likely.' Ichigo spluttered, bracing himself for another slap. To his surprise, Aizen merely laughed and brushed matted red hair behind the boy's ear.

'Oh but of course I don't expect you to comply immediately. I wouldn't ask you to do anything of your own free will, not yet.' His lips curled upwards into a smile that promised agony as he leaned forward to whisper like a lover in the redhead's ear, 'But you will, in time. You can be sure of that.' Ichigo felt Aizen's hands brush his neck for a moment, as something clicked into place. Terrible fatigue come over him as what little energy he had left drained instantly. The shinigami had just had enough time to raise his hands to his neck and realise that he was now wearing a reiatsu suppressing collar, like the one he had seen on Rukia when she was imprisoned, before he passed out.

'…Bastard.' He muttered as he lost consciousness once more and sank into the cold marble floor.

* * *

Urahara was furious.

It wasn't the regular anger, the 'Kurosaki has wrecked my hat again' or even the 'Yoruichi has thrown out one of my experiments because she thought it was food past its expiration date' kind of anger. It was pure rage, fuelled by utter fear. Fear for Ichigo, of what was happening to him, of what _could_ happen to him. Fear at the possibly that he could already be dead. It was an emotion like none the shopkeeper had ever been seen to express. But if Yamamoto was surprised by it, it was not shown on his impassive face.

'You cannot be serious! Kurosaki is the best chance we have of winning this war, are we to just leave him in the hands of the enemy? First you abandon Miss Orihime and now him too? I will not accept this!'

'May I remind you, Urahara Kisuke, that it was your negligence that brought about this entire situation! If you had not sent those _children_ to Hueco Mundo in the first place Kurosaki would not be captured and I would not have to give this order.' The bearded man retorted.

'He would have found a way regardless of my assistance, don't you see? Kuros-', he stopped mid-sentence before continuing in a softer tone of voice, '…Ichigo. He is stubborn and fat headed and he cares so much about his friends and comrades. He'd never abandon them. Not like what you are suggesting we do to him!'

'It was not a suggestion but an order. You or any other are forbade of entering Hueco Mundo by any means until told otherwise. Any attempt to once again infiltrate Las Noches will be met with severe consequences. I will not lose anybody else. Have I made myself clear, Urahara Kisuke?'

Grey eyes narrowed as the blonde feigned obedience, '…Crystal.'

'Good. See that it stays that way.' The captain commander departed, as the light in the screen flickered off and the picture withered and faded to black. The man in the striped hat turned from the screen, shadows pooled to conceal his face. His shoulders slumped as the gravity of the situation threatened to overwhelm him.

'Good thing I don't have to answer to Soul Society anymore.' He spoke out loud, tipping back his head. 'Gods, Ichigo… I won't abandon you. Not with him. I swear.'

'Kisuke?' A voice filled with concern echoed from the other side of the room.

'Yoruichi.'

'How did it go?'

'The old man is stubborn as always.' He sighed, 'We're going to have to work well below the radar here.'

The purple haired woman smiled, 'I wouldn't have it any other way. Come on now, that redheaded idiot in the next room is getting restless.' Urahara nodded, following her through the doorway. As he slid the panel shut behind him he uttered an almost silent promise into the dark room.

'This time, let _me_ save _you_.'


	3. Head Like a Hole

**Chapter 3: Head like a Hole**

'_Head like a hole, black as your soul.  
I'd rather die, than give you control…  
Bow down before the one you serve,  
You're going to get what you deserve.'_

White, all white. All he saw and felt and smelt was white, intermingled with pain and blood and fear.

Ichigo groaned, he opened his eyes and Gods, they hurt. In fact, scratch that, everything hurt. Clawing his way into an upright position, he was glad to realise that his black robes had not yet been bleached out with the white. The boy ran his hand through his hair to find it matted with blood and unidentified gunk.

'Gross…' he grimaced, wiping his hand on the pristine bed sheets, relishing the rebelliousness that came with dirtying the white. His moment of revolution was cut short by the realisation that he was sitting on a bed. Not a grubby little bunk in a prison cell as he had expected, but a feather soft, king-size whiteWhiteWHITE bed in a neat and spacious, bedroom. For fucks sake, it even seemed to have its own bathroom. This was far more disturbing than he had EVER imagined his place of captivity to be.

'What the…' Ichigo dropped his head into his hands and remembered_. _Or tried to at least, his memory ended with Aizen attaching that collar to his neck. His fist clenched tightly at the memory of the overbearing smugness of the man, the audacity of him, to bound Ichigo like some mere pet or, _(what was that word he used), _plaything.

Bastard, he was an utter bastard. But he didn't compare to the shinigami boy. He was a failure. He was captured and humiliated, his powers and dignity stripped away. But the absolute worst, worse than being beaten down before_ him_, he had failed to save her. Orihime. She didn't deserve any of this; she was too fragile for this place. He knew that he had to save her and yet, he had failed, and only succeeded in landing himself in the same damn situation.

'Fuuck' He exhaled in a whisper as he fended off tears. He knew he was being ridiculous; this sort of attitude wasn't going to help. Wiping the back of his hand along his eyes, he was pleased to see they remained dry. That's better; he thought, can't go to pieces now, not that shameful, not that beaten yet.

As his thoughts wandered in an attempt to escape the impending panic, he himself wandered throughout his 'cell'. When he regained a sane state of mind he found himself staring into a mirror in the aforementioned bathroom. The redhead cursed at his reflection in the mirror; he looked like shit. His scalp had obviously been bleeding quite profusely, his hair was in an even worse state than normal and his right eye was decorated in a beautiful shade of purple. Dried blood laid a trail from his nostrils to his upper lip, and continued onwards, seeping from the corner of his mouth. His bottom lip was cut and swollen, and he could still taste the metallic tang of blood on his tongue.

He splashed cool water over his face, rubbing it into his hair and swirling it in his mouth to work out the blood and mess. He tried to grin into the mirror, but was disgusted by how fake and weak it looked.

Upon his return to the bedroom he noticed a set of clothing (white of course, to match the rest of this fucking place) laid out on the bed. Had they been there before? He supposed he could've overlooked them in amongst all the other lack of colour in this place, but they made him uneasy all the same.

'A gift for you, pet.' There was no mistaking that cold voice as it cut through Ichigo like ice.

'You…' he hissed, fists and teeth clenching simultaneously. Before he could turn to face the man and complete his sentence he was grabbed roughly from behind, his arm was twisted up behind his back at an unnatural angle. He would've cried out it pain if not for the strong hand which was compressed across his mouth.

'Now now, haven't you learned that this attitude will not be tolerated here?' A painful twist of the wrist. A muffled cry. 'You feel that? Any further and it'll break. Now…' He leaned in to almost brush lips against the redhead's ear, 'Are you going to behave?' Ichigo appeared to be taking a moment to consider this, until Aizen's impatience threatened to rip his wrist right off. The boy conceded, slowing nodding his head, eyes tightly shut as if to hide him from the man.

'Good boy.' As the grip around him released, Ichigo's legs betrayed and toppled him over to land unceremoniously on the bed. Towering over him, the brunette smirked and gestured towards the white cloth. 'Put the uniform on.'

Narrowed eyes took in the uniform with an overbearing sense of disgust, they were arrancar outfits, fitted and white, not at all befitting of a shinigami, even one as wretched as he.

'I'm not doing anything you tell me to, not ever.' He spat, ochre eyes blazing. Aizen smirked as he leaned in closer to the boy, gripping his chin and forcing him to look straight into his eyes.

'Such fire in such a young thing as you. You possess so much potential and once I'm though with you, I will turn it to power to serve my cause, and you'll be mine. You shall stand with me as Soul Society is crushed beneath us, and you shall be the one to bring about its destruction.' Ichigo tried to jerk his head away, looking into the man's eyes made him more than uncomfortable, it terrified him. They were deep and dark and endless, and the boy felt that to gaze too long would rob him of his sanity.

'First lesson.' His head was forced back. ' There is no running here, no escaping from what we will do to you. Any orders that you are given you will comply with, regardless of your own will. If you refuse then you shall be forced, it will be painful and unpleasant. The end result will always be the same.' He released the shinigami boy, pushing him back a little upon the bed. Ichigo's gaze fixed on white sheets. 'And so I repeat, put on the uniform. I will not ask you again.'

Every fibre in his body screamed at Ichigo to give in and go along. Instinct understood that Aizen was not bluffing, and self-preservation pleaded to obey. It was only a simple task, not harmful in the least; his own clothes were dirty and tattered anyway… So what if they were 'arrancar' clothes? It wouldn't make him any less human. But pride, Ichigo's pride and honour told him that he could not. Aizen was the enemy. The man that had hurt and kidnapped and tried to kill his friends and his comrades. To lower himself to bow before this man, well it was just too shameful.

He turned his head upwards,

_('stand tall Ichigo, stand proud,')  
_

and stared defiantly into the brown abyss,

_('don't show any fear when staring an enemy right in the eye,')  
_

as he recalled the few serious words of his stripy hatted teacher,

_('the real battle begins before a sword is even unsheathed, don't lose before you've even begun,')  
_

and he was not afraid, he would not let him down,

_('neverbackdown, don't avoid pain at the cost of your soul.')  
_

Never._  
_

_('Ichigo…')_

'No.' he spoke.

'Excuse me?'

'I said no!' Forcefully this time, 'I'm not scared of you.'

Aizen was not surprised; in fact this was just what he was expected. The boy was not going to be broken easily, and submission at this early point would've only disappointed him.

'Very well then, I see you've made your choice.' Before he was even aware of what was happening, Ichigo found himself flat on his back, caught by his wrists above his head, waist straddled by strong thighs. By the time his brain caught up with his situation his body was going into a state of panic. He kicked and thrashed about, but to no avail. A malicious grin stole across the traitor's face.

'It's no use, you see, in this state you're as weak as a kitten.' Ichigo's eyes widened with panic as he felt a hand creep along the side of his waist, heading for the sash that held his obi together.

'What're you doing?' fear began coursing its way through his veins, constricting his throat, freezing his body.

'I warned you, didn't I?' he breathed, blowing warm air against the boy's skin, 'I will not tolerate your behaviour here. This is the way you have chosen to do things…' strong fingers brushed burnished skin as the boy's shinigami robes fell away, exposing him to the cold, lifeless air of the palace, with only his thin boxers to guard his dignity.

Teeth clenched as a mixture of rage and embarrassment painted Ichigo's face in a blush to challenge the brightness of his hair.

'Don't touch me!' the rising panic in his voice was unmistakable, the brunette towering over him could almost _taste_ it on his breath.

'I'm afraid you're not the one giving the orders here.' A smirk as the hand snuck up his neck, cupping his cheek in a mock gesture of compassion as deep brown and ochre eyes clashed. So close, they were so close that the boy could feel every beat of the man's heart, every pump that rushed blood through his veins. The echo of his own; faster paced, betraying the fear that had taken root in his heart, a heart that so nearly stopped when he felt lips brush the delicate skin of his neck.

'No…' voice barely a whisper as teeth scraped skin. 'S-stop!'

'Stop me.' Heady breath ghosted Ichigo's ear, warm and full of dark assurances. 'I don't think you're going to be able to though.' Velvet lips pressed against the skin of his neck. 'I told you didn't I? Here you are mine to do what I please. Behave and you'll be rewarded, keep this up and, well…' a harsh tug of red hair, his voice a cruel whisper, 'Maybe I'll let Grimmjow play with you some more.' There was a sharp intake of breath from the redhead as teeth nipped shut, drawing a tiny bead of blood to break the surface of skin, as a rough tongue parted soft lips to claim its red prize. 'Do you like that pet?'

Ichigo squirmed, 'N-no!' Finding it difficult to speak, he gasped 'Stop! Get away!' But that hand kept creeping, fingers digging in painfully at his shoulder blade.

'Ask me properly pet,' that wicked mouth still haunted his ear, 'and I'll consider it.'

'Ah!' pride wrestled preservation, chaotic emotions making his head spin in an unrelenting cycle until the latter won over. 'Please!' he screwed his eyes shut, hiding this time not from the man before him but from his own weakness.

'What was that?' the sharpness cut through to his ears, the mean hand travelled ever downwards, tracing harsh outlines of muscle over the tanned stomach.

'Please, please stop it.' Words expelled like a poison, seeming to cause the boy physical pain as he spoke them.

The grip on his wrists loosened, releasing his circulation, the blood flowing back into his hands bringing with it a prickling sensation that was not entirely uncomfortable. The wandering hand ceased its downwards expedition, returning instead to stroke Ichigo's cheek in an uncomfortable parody of a lover.

'See, that wasn't so bad now was it?' the hand brushed away imaginary tears. 'Soon you'll be bowing before me of your own violation, but for now,' lips crushed into his in a harsh mockery of a kiss, smothering his mouth and sending his mind reeling upon shockwaves of horror, 'for now, Ichigo, just get dressed.' The weight upon Ichigo left him as the ex-captain arose, leaving him sprawled upon the bed like a used whore.

'F-fuck you, b-bastard.' Numbness spread throughout his body, a self-defence measure to prevent him from realising what had just happened. His lips felt bruised despite the briefness of the contact and his shoulder was scratched red and sore. He shook as he sat up on the bed. His scalp had started bleeding again, the warm red liquid trickling down his face, running into his eyes.

'I'll be back soon enough, see that you are presentable by then. Perhaps I'll even take you to see Miss Orihime to get your wounds healed. _Perhaps._' Aizen did not turn around, did not even spare the pitiful boy a glance. He didn't need to look upon him to know exactly the look upon his face, or the pain in his heart. He understood suffering all too well, and he was going to make sure that the boy experienced every bit of it possible before the end.

Before he broke beyond repair.

* * *

Thanks to all of you who have put this on your watch list, im honoured.  
Thanks also to everyone who has left a review, keep 'em coming! :3


	4. Scream

**Chapter 4: Scream  
**_  
'Scream, Scream, Scream,  
the way you would if I ravaged your body.  
Scream, Scream, Scream,  
the way you would if I ravaged your mind.'_

Ichigo stared blank eyed at the unnamed arrancar that was currently weaving bandages around his wrist. Every inch of him ached; the slightest movement sending sparks of pain shooting off across his body. His time spent here, he didn't even know how long it had been. In this place there was no sun to chart the passing of days. No calendars either; evidently the citizens of Las Noches didn't care much for timekeeping. Aizen knew. Aizen probably knew right down to the minute how long he'd been captive here for. Another piece of information to keep in the psychological warfare against him. Bastard.

He hadn't yet been allowed to see Orihime, of course. That had turned out to be just another one of Aizen's little tortures. Dangle a prize and use it to exert control over the boy. Carrot and stick. He had been healed by her, more than once, but never allowed to see her. Aizen only permitted her to heal him when he was on the verge of death, (this usually happened when Gin was involved,) and only when he was fully unconscious. He couldn't even feel her, that was the worst part. The reiatsu that always lingered after she healed him, that damn collar prevented that from even catching hold of that fleeting glimpse of her. He supposed that the denial of this friendly contact was even worse than the omnipresent pain that came with the torture. And, Gods, that was far from easy.

Though he supposed it was physically impossible, it felt as though every bone in his body had been broken and splintered a thousand times over, every muscle torn, every drop of blood drawn from deep wounds to paint the pristine floors of the palace, that silver haired fox with his cutting smile towering over him while those ceaseless brown eyes watched. Aizen, he always watched, like he enjoyed it. That sadistic bastard.

The pain and the agony, it was truly agonizing. He had a natural resistance to pain, refined by his countless fights and the injuries that followed, but this was something else entirely. There was no distraction from this pain, no escape. His energy was constantly drained; all he wanted to do was sleep all the time, but he couldn't. He couldn't sleep for fear of the nightmares that would come along with it. He dreamed in shades of red now, seeing his family, his friends, knowing that he would probably never see them in reality again. He saw them wounded and killed and he felt the ever constant ache of his wounds and broken bones. He nearly always woke screaming.

The arrancar, obviously too lowly to be granted with a visible number, finished up with the bandages and turned to leave, eyes declining to meet with the boys, heels clicking on the marble floor. Ichigo had long given up trying to communicate with any of these arrancars, finding them blank and unresponsive. He shivered in the cold air, feeling slowly returning to his body after the initial numbness that came with the treatment. When his wounds were deemed insufficient to justify being healed by Orihime, he was bandaged up by one of the peons, a strange cream scraped all over his body to numb the pain and accelerate his healing, making him heal at the rate of an arrancar. He hated being treated, being manhandled as he lay there like a limp doll, blood dripping everywhere and he powerless to do anything about it. He couldn't even heal without being given that goddamn cream. It was sickening just how out of control he was here.

But he hadn't caved. No matter how he was pushed, no matter how many times that fox carved up his flesh and shattered his bones, the same question was always met with the same answer. As he lay, bloody and broken upon the floor, that strong hand holding his head aloft, once again forcing their eyes to meet, each time he looked deep into those hellish brown pits and each time that question passed lips parted in a matter of false gentleness, the answer was always the same.

'_Are you going to obey your master yet, Ichigo?'_

'…_Fuck you.'_

'_Pity.'_

'Never… I'll never give in to him.' Ichigo reiterated this thought as he did every time he woke in this situation; to remind himself; to keep himself focused and sane. This was a battle of will and Ichigo would not cave. He slid his body down so his bare feet brushed the cold floor, recoiling for a moment in reaction to the temperature. Trusting in his shaking legs, he limped noiselessly from the room, pausing in the corridor in a hopeless attempt to get his bearings. Every corridor and room in this place looked the same and he could not hope to navigate them alone. Usually he was escorted back to his room by the arrancar that pieced him back together, but this time he was left alone and this was an opportunity. Though he did not really believe he could escape in his current condition, he would still take pleasure from the slight rebellion that came with disobedience. He might even be able to cause some trouble if he was lucky. Letting his instinct choose, he followed the seemingly unending corridor along to the right, injured leg dragging slightly.

Aizen had been observing the boy, as he always did after such 'sessions'. He liked to watch the reaction, the pain and frustration so restrained in defiant eyes. Initially he hadn't planned on torturing the boy in this way, knowing the response he would get. Pain was not uncommon to Ichigo and skilled though Gin was with his zanpakutō he believed this method of persuasion to be ineffective. Nonetheless, he decided to let Gin have his fun with the boy, and he would admit to it not being_ entirely _useless. Entertainment was scarce in this place, and he found it quite fascinating to watch as Gin worked upon the orange haired youth. He had seen battle carved soldiers cracking under the tender mercies of his silver haired lieutenant faster than this one boy. It had taken him _days_ to scream, and Aizen wasn't satisfied until he did so, surrendering at last to pain and fear and weakness.

But, despite the enjoyment of observation, Aizen felt that now was the time for a more personal touch. Gin had pushed him to the brink, all he needed was a good hard shove to take him over the edge, and Aizen would be the one to deliver it. As Ichigo left the medical room so Aizen departed from his throne, making his way along corridors that were as familiar and navigable to him as the back of his hand. He moved in total silence, no rustling of cloth, clicking of heels nor sound of breath could be heard from the ex-captain as he crept towards the prey wandering blind in his lair.

The chill in the air seemed to have increased tenfold, the atmosphere pressing in around Ichigo, making breathing difficult. Shivers ran helter skelter along his skin, caused partly by the sudden drop in temperature but mostly by the knowledge that came with this change. Aizen was near. He always had this effect on Ichigo, creating a feeling in the air as though the entire building was pressing in around him, fear constricting his throat and limbs. Bastard. Hands clenched into fists as he stumbled instinctively through the corridors, the floors so cold that he felt as though they could ice over any moment and stick him to the ground. His breath came in shorter and shorter gasps; he was hyperventilating, how embarrassing. Making a desperate attempt for air, an attempt to fight off the impending panic, he forced his airways open wide and inhaled deeply, cold air making his head spin until he tripped and fell over his own shaking feet. He fell on his side upon the bitter floor, striking his head and sinking his teeth into his lip as he did so. There was barely enough time for this minor pain to register before a strong hand clamped itself around his throat, dragging the shinigami's weakened body upright and slamming him against the wall.

'Where are you wandering away to pet?' that velvet voice murmured from a place too close for Ichigo's comfort. He tried to speak but no words would come out, that hand putting pressure on his throat made it only just possible to breathe, but rendered speech impossible. The boy was instantly aware of just how uncomfortably close their bodies were, Aizen had him pressed tightly up against the wall, one hand constricting his throat, the other winding its fingers in his hair and those eyes were level with his, boring a way direct to his soul. A strong chest pressed against him, a leg intertwined with his own and memories of the last time they had been this close flashed to the forefront of Ichigo's mind. The helplessness that threatened to overwhelm him once again reared its head, closely followed by fear and the slight but ever so sickening pleasure of such close contact. He could feel the older man's heartbeat against his chest, a slow and steady rhythm that brought with it the illusion of the physical contact that he longed for; but not here, not now, not with this man.

'…L-let me… g-go.' The auburn haired boy choked out. Those teeth raked up and down his neck as the hand tangled in his hair moved downwards, fingers lingering over his lips as he gasped in desire and revulsion. Ichigo squirmed at the intimate contact, his neck was such a sensitive area and he couldn't suppress the moan that slipped from parted lips as that sinful mouth pressed itself upon his skin. Aizen smirked, it was a beautiful sight, seeing Ichigo flushed, confused, frightened and aroused all at once. He should have done this sooner; the boy really was much more attractive when he was in one piece. He trailed his hand downwards, tracing the lines of Ichigo's collarbone, flitting downwards to tease a nipple through the cloth.

'Ah!' Ichigo yelped in reaction to this new sensation, 'S-Stop it, stop!' The ex-captain grinned maliciously in reply,

'What's the matter pet? You certainly seem to be enjoying this,' His hand moved swiftly to caress Ichigo's inner thigh; 'Your body is practically begging for it, you little whore.' Anger flashed in those ochre eyes,

'I'd never beg for it, not from you!'

'Ah, but from someone else perhaps? Someone like, Urahara Kisuke?' He spoke the name slowly and deliberately, drawing out each syllable with deliberate cruelty and taking sadistic pleasure from the shock and horror shown in the boy's widening eyes. Ichigo felt as though the ground had fallen out from beneath him, the mention of that name, the fact that Aizen knew his feelings rendered him almost speechless.

'How… How did you know that?' he croaked pathetically.

'Did you really think that in all that time and torment we found out nothing? You talk in your sleep pet, when you have nightmares and call out to be saved, or when you dream, it's always him you call for, him you reach out to.'

Those lips pressed again to his neck, one hand slipped beneath the boy's robes, massaging his growing erection while the other clamped itself over his mouth to stifle the cries and moans that slipped from his lips.

'But don't worry, he's not coming for you. He'd never want for a pathetic child like you. He trained you; he made you what you are... You're just an experiment to him.'

He turned the boy around, slamming him harshly into the wall, grasping his wrists and wrenching them above his head, pinning him there with enough force to bruise. Ichigo's robes fell away as easily as if they were never there, and as the cold air struck his body fully fledged panic kicked in as he cried out in utter fear, limbs flailing uselessly as he tried to thrash a way out of this situation, terror increasing tenfold in pain and shame as those fingers worked a way into him.

He swore to himself that he would not give the bastard the pleasure of hearing him scream, but at the sensation of tearing and fullness, the intermingled disgust and pleasure as the traitor pushed inside of him he could not suppress that cry as it tore itself from his throat, causing his tormenter to grin widely and sadistically as the redhead in his grasp gave in to the roaring fear that had become an ever present emotion within him. As he thrust inside of the boy he leaned in to brush lips against his neck and ears, tongue darting out to touch flaming cheeks as he licked away the desolate tears that escaped eyelids squeezed together so tightly as to block out the reality of the situation. He spoke again as he ran hands over the shinigami's chest and face, gripping his jaw firmly and forcing their lips together in a bruising kiss before whispering against his mouth.

'And you're a failed experiment at that. Nothing more. You're all alone here Ichigo…'

Ichigo bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood once again, his hands clawed the wall, nails scraping against the smooth surface. He must not scream or, God forbid, moan. He could not possibly show any more weakness that he already had but, oh God, he was being split open, the pain was nothing like he'd experienced before, emotional and physical, it was dirty, discomfort mixed with the building pleasure and sickening feelings of disgust and utmost shame. At the mention of Urahara's name his cheeks had flared dreadfully, and he was rendered sick to his stomach as he imagined what the man would think of him now, now he had been dirtied and defiled by his greatest enemy.

And as his captor lent in to nip his ear to murmur his final blow, he realised that all his fantasies, hopes and wishes had been completely dashed upon this rock of reality. There was no escape, no hope, and no love to be shared between them. He'd never exactly had an ordinary life but why did even his infatuation have to be totally impossible and extraordinary?

'Ichigo,' that poison laced voice whispered softly as sharp teeth nibbled his earlobe, 'No one is coming to save you.'

And as realisation set in, he understood that his imprisoner was wholly correct, he _was_ pathetic, he _was_ a worthless failure, and he was entirely, _overwhelmingly_ alone in this situation.

The question was once again repeated,

'Are you going to obey your master yet, Ichigo..?'

And this time it was met only with sobs.

* * *

Sorry it took a while for this one, had a bit of a problem with the 'lemon' writing (first time i have attempted one ) Hope it's good enough.

Thank you for all the reviews after the last chapter, you all rock :P (Y)


	5. How Do You Feel Tonight?

**Chapter 5: How Do You Feel Tonight?**

_Is there anybody out there?  
Anyone that's loved in vain?  
Anyone that feels the same?_

_I feel so high, no one else would know it.  
I don't know why i feel the way i do  
I can't let go._

_Tell me - how do you feel tonight?_

Pale moonlight filtered through the gaps in the bars, casting a striped glow upon the orange haired shinigami curled up on the bed. Lying on his side upon the thick sheets, the white sleeve of his jacket slipping down to reveal an abused shoulder, Ichigo drew his legs into his chest as tightly as he could, focusing all his energy on thinking about anything except that which had just transpired out in the hallway. The desire to curl up into a ball and simply cease to exist had never been so overwhelming, the nails digging into the skin of his arms attempted to block out the mental anguish with physical pain, but it wasn't enough. He never thought he'd actually wish to have Gin work his bitter magic upon his skin but now, it seemed preferable to having _that_ done to him again. Preferable to ever having that bastard touch him like that, talk to him like that, make him feel that way by ripping deep emotional wounds, physical and mental scars. A choked whimper tore itself from his throat at the memory of how it felt to be pushed inside of, how it felt to be so utterly defiled by a man he hated more than anything

And he knew, _heknewheknewheknew_. Ichigo's deepest secret, he'd never told anybody how he felt, not even Rukia. It had taken him months to figure it out himself; why his insides flipped at the sight of the blonde or the sound of his voice; why, when their skin touched in the midst of sparring his stomach fizzed and sent a warm glow sparking off right across his body, all the way down to the tips of his fingers; why he'd started making excuses to himself, finding any reason at all to stop by the shop and visit him. The realisation, when it finally arrived, had completely knocked him for six, could he really be falling for this man? This man, who was stronger, infinitely smarter and, much, much older than him. He knew that, in Urahara's eyes he was just a child, and sure the man was a wicked pervert but Ichigo didn't even know if he was interested in guys that way, after all he did spend a lot of time around with Yoruichi who was a woman, not to mention an attractive one.

And it'd taken him even longer to figure out exactly_ why_ he was falling for the ex-captain, why it was that this horribly annoying man had sparked off such a reaction in him. He was sure that it wasn't just physical, though he could not deny how attractive he found the blonde, more so when he wasn't hiding his face under that infernal hat. It wasn't just that the feel of his skin or scent of his hair sent all sorts of emotions and hormones racing through Ichigo's body, it wasn't just the sight of him as they trained and sparred together, sweat beading on his forehead as those lips parted to gasp slightly for breath, lips drawn back in that ever present smile, his blonde hair mussed and tousled free from the confines of the striped hat, the cloth of his jacket pushed back slightly, revealing the arches and curves of his shoulders, fluttering open to display pale skin etched with lines of defined muscle…

It was in the way he spoke, a kind of soft gentleness with the most wickedly delicious edge, sweet and bitter and pure and dirty all at once. It was in his eyes, mercury grey and always shining with such a devious light, even when he was utterly serious. It was in his attitude, confident, humorous, mischievous and oh so intelligent... Ichigo had to admit that his own talent lay in brute strength and the physical; he wasn't ever much of a thinker. But Urahara, he was a genius, his mind was always working, always scheming this or that and though he'd never admit it, Ichigo admired that deeply.

It was because he had let him and Rukia keep Kon; because he had helped him when no-one else would; because he had turned him into something fearful by giving him his power as a Vizard; because he had stepped in on countless battles to save the boy's life; because he had been he had been willing to help him, to send him to Hueco Mundo against orders; because he had always been there as a shoulder to cry on, a true and ubiquitous source of information and inspiration, to teach him and train him and coddle him and chastise him. Because even if everything fell apart he was sure that Urahara and his shop and his silly hat and his weapon-like fans and his noisy, clattering clogs would always be there, waiting at the end of the world.

Thinking about the man made his head spin and his insides ache with a terrible, overwhelming sense of longing which was if possible even worse than the fear and loathing and disgust that he had been torturing himself with before. He tried to turn his thoughts to other things. Like this room, it wasn't his normal one. After that… _incident_ in the corridors he had been half led, half dragged along to this new room, it was larger and more luxuriously furnished that the last, and he had realised with a sickening bolt of understanding that these were most likely Aizen's private lodgings. He had fought back the urge to cry then, understanding with a sinking heart what it meant, that what had happened to him in the corridors was not going to be an isolated incident, it would not be the last time he would be tortured in this way. At the time he was utterly confused, he had no idea why this was happening to him, but in the fog that smothered his mind in the aftermath he knew that this was Aizen's new way of hurting him, of breaking him. It was disgusting, that he would sink so low, and what for anyway? Surely Ichigo was not worth this trouble. Was this merely to break him or he doing it because he got some kind of sick pleasure out of it? With a shudder he realised that it was likely to be both, remembering the way the lord had looked at him as he lay there helpless at Gins hands, relishing in the sounds that his blood made as it splashed upon the floor. The way he'd grinned sadistically as he pressed Ichigo's frail body against the wall, touching and teasing and laughing cruelly as he raped the boy, body and soul.

Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of mixed emotions and immeasurable fears that assaulted his mind. Curling his arms even tighter around him, he tried to think of something, anything but the horror of the last few hours, or the longing for an unreachable love.

'Pleasant dreams pet?' Ichigo's breath caught in his throat, his lungs turned icy cold and he didn't even need to open his eyes, didn't need to look up from his position on the bed to know who was now standing in the doorway. He ground his teeth and let silence act as his last means of defiance, he didn't trust himself to speak at this point anyway. Again it felt as though the temperature had dropped several degrees, and Ichigo's shivering was now only partly due to his fear.

He felt the bed move as Aizen sat down upon it, Ichigo unconsciously shifting as far from him as he could until he felt strong fingers gripping his hair, pulling his head back to force the terrified boy to face him once again. The boy felt calloused hands run down his back, muscular arms pulling him into position on the brunettes lap. He was too physically tired and emotionally drained to even think to protest, he'd just get hurt again, or worse, and those hands massaging his sore shoulders were comforting, lulling him into a false sense of serenity. Something screamed at the back of his mind to get out, get away from the warm chest he was pressed against, away from those hands rubbing patterns on his back, but he just couldn't bring himself to move. He was so sleepy all of a sudden, fatigue sweeping over his body so swiftly and entirely that he forgot all the pain of his world, and was asleep within moments, still perched there upon the lap of a man he hated.

The lord of Las Noches regarded him with a sadistic smirk painting his face, his new method of breaking the boy seemed to be proving effective, at least in the short term, if the sleeping teenager in his lap was any indication. He suspected that the change would not be permanent however, once he had regained his energy and self-assurance he would still be that same defiant, disrespectful, foul mouthed shinigami, but of course then he would have to administer the treatment again, and again, and again until the message got through. The ran the pads of his fingers over the sleeping boys face, tracing invisible lines before leaning and whispering harshly, 'There is no escape, no running from what we will do to you, Ichigo, the sooner you submit the easier it will be for you, for you to lose your soul.'

And even in his sleep, the pained expression on his face showed that on some level the message had gotten through.

* * *

Ichigo awoke to a world of harsh lights, the bright whiteness of the room stinging his eyes as it always did as he awakened. He squinted into his pillow, that momentary confusion over where he was and how he'd gotten there and why everything was so goddam white fading as a look of miserable realisation crept into brown irises, dulling their fire, much to the amusement of the smirking face that lay alongside his. When his vision unfogged enough to bring the face into sharp focus, a stab of fear shot through his veins as his startled heart skipped a beat. His teeth clenched and lips curled upwards in a snarl as the memories of last night roared at the forefront of his mind.

'Good morning Ichigo.' He remarked in that mocking tone that, if possible, made him hate the man even more, reaching out to pet the boy's cheek, 'Did you sleep well?'

'Don't fucking touch me!' the frightened teen cried out, attempting to jolt backwards from the man, wincing at the sudden pain in his lower back and nearly falling in a heap in the floor. He was stopped by Aizen reaching out a hand and catching him by the restrictive collar around his neck, using it to pull the angry shinigami towards him, nearly choking him in the process.

'Tch, don't be naughty, or I'll have to punish you further…' That sadistic grin was plastered all over the brunette's face once again as he leaned in close to speak torturous words in the redhead's trembling ears, his hands already running along the boy's exposed skin. 'Or, would you like that?' he grinned as Ichigo's skin flared and the lord could practically taste the emotions emanating from the boy, shame and fear and utter rage. The fire which had been temporarily extinguished was once again burning in his eyes and Aizen smiled even wider, the shinigami was turning out to be even more interesting that he had imagined.

'Get the hell off of me.' He snarled, gritting his teeth to stop himself from biting down on his lip.

'Really Ichigo, I thought you might've learned by now,' the traitor raked nails across his exposed collarbone, tracing a line from one shoulder to the other, relishing in the feeling of warm skin beneath his and the way it made the boy squirm and blush even more furiously beneath him. 'I don't like being spoken to in that manner.' The look on his face darkened, eyes narrowing and grin dropping almost instantaneously as he dug his fingers right in to the soft flesh beneath the shinigami's collarbone. 'Did you like me being inside of you?' he mocked as, surrounding his fingers in reiatsu, he pushed right into the boy's flesh, demonstrating the massive power difference between the two of them as he slowly dug his fingers in, shredding muscle and tearing veins as he went, feeling the muscles tense and contract in pain even as he ripped through them.

Ichigo let out a cry, biting it back and trying to choke it down in vain as he grasped Aizen's arm in an attempt to force his hand away, he might've tried to move a mountain for all the good it did him. It was too much, he never thought he'd see Aizen getting his hands dirty like this, but now he was learning that the bastard liked to do more than just watch and Gods it hurt so much, being so helpless as the man tore him to pieces with his bare hands,

(_and other parts of his anatomy._)

It was this thought more than anything that made the boy wince, that allowed him to let the pain show fully on his face, greatly humouring the man who was tearing a hole in his shoulder.

'Really Ichigo, you do bring out the worst in me.' The ex-captain whispered, his voice brimming with hidden promises of dark and sensuous and terrible things. 'I'm going to make this easy for you,' he murmured as he twisted his fingers, forcibly widening the hole he was creating in his shoulder, the cruel smile returning again to his lips as the boy cried out beneath him. 'Bow to me, just this once, and I'll take you to see your little friend.'

Ichigo blinked, confusion overriding the terrible pain for a moment as he considered these words. His voice shook a little as he spoke,

'What do you mean?'

'It's simple pet,' he ran his other hand along the boy's arms, catching his wrists and holding them firmly above his head, 'All you have to do is acknowledge me as your Master, that's all.' He leaned in dangerously close, teeth catching the delicate skin of his earlobe. 'And I'll stop all this and take you along to be healed and, of course, to see if your dear friend is unharmed.' Ichigo's eyes had been slipping shut as he felt warm breath on his skin, but they snapped wide open to regard the man with anger in his eyes at this comment.

'What do you mean, see if she's unharmed?' he grit his teeth in rage. 'I swear if you've so much as touched her I'll…'

'You'll what?' he smirked, 'Kill me? Not likely. But worry not,_ if _my orders have been followed she should be fine but, continue to disobey me and that may change. Now,' he glared down at the boy, feeling his temper slip a little. 'What is your response?'

Squeezing his eyes shut again Ichigo considered his situation. If things kept going this way he was sure that he would be violated again, and this time with a bloody big hole in his shoulder. And Orihime; dear, sweet Orihime. It was torture not knowing if she was really alright. If he could just get to see her, to make sure that those bastard's hadn't touched her, then he was sure that he would be able to rest a lot easier. If he could just get to see her, it would remind him of what he was fighting for. All he had to do was swallow his pride and, after last night he didn't really have much pride left to loose anyway.

So he opened his eyes, determined to show as little weakness as possible, and staring right into those brown pits, he replied in a voice that only just rose above a whisper.

'Yes, Aizen… sama.'

A satisfied look crept over Aizen's face as the teen found himself tipped from the bed. This time he really did fall on the floor, giving in to the urge to cry out in pain again as his shoulder came into contact with the solid ground. As he struggled into an upright position he growled at the other man who was sitting there upon the bed and watched in horror as Aizen raised those fingers to his lips, running a languid tongue along them to lick off the boy's blood. Ichigo shivered, his retort dying in his throat at this sight. The brunette touched a little of Ichigo's blood to his bottom lip before, in a movement that Ichigo could not even try to follow, he found those lips pressed against his, more gentle than before, bearing the bitter tang of his own blood, a taste that he had become quite familiar with over these past days. He felt his captor smile against his lips and pushed against his chest in disgust, propelling himself backwards onto the floor once again.

'You… You're sick.' He hissed, putting pressure on the wound in his shoulder to try and stop the blood which was flowing freely, painting the floor and his arrancar outfit a deep red. He could see what used to be white bedsheets and felt sick at how much blood there seemed to be. Even after everything Gin had done to him, he'd never get used to that.

'And you are making a mess on my floor, pet.' He smirked in retort, standing and pulling the protesting boy up by his hair. 'Say it again, show me how serious you are.' Ichigo clenched his fists, every fibre in him longing to throttle the man and wipe that smug look from his face. But terror and reason won over, and so he bowed his head a little, this time refusing to meet his eyes and repeated in a clear voice which still could not fully hide the tone of disgust,

'Yes, Aizen-sama.'

He hated himself, but that didn't matter now. He'd deal with his emotional issues later, right now he had to focus on Orihime, what happened to him and his pride didn't matter as long as he could comfort her. After all, she was the reason he was here, and he was the reason she had been put in danger in the first place. They could do what they liked to him, torture him, rape him, mock him and break him, but if they so dared to touch a hair on her head… He knew he was powerless now but somehow, he'd kill them all for hurting her.

* * *

Aizen smirked at the tearful reunion that was unfolding before him, and wondered again if perhaps hurting the girl really would be counterproductive. The moment he had shoved the boy into the room before him there had been a heartfelt cry from Orihime as she ran towards him.

'Kurosaki-kun! Kurosaki-kun I'm so sorry! This is all my fault! I…' she stopped with a gasp at the sight of the wound in his shoulder, tears running from the corner of her eyes as she turned her gaze away, as though she felt that she was humiliating him by looking at his injuries. 'Oh Kurosaki-kun, what have they been doing to you? I'm so sorry.'

'Hey, hey, Orihime.' He touched her cheek, bringing her eyes back to meet his, 'None of this is your fault.' He had turned to glare to Aizen then as he spoke, 'It's theirs.' He turned back to her to see her face painted with a blush, her cheek warm where his fingers brushed her soft skin. 'I'm fine, really. Doesn't hurt a bit so, please don't cry.' Knowing not what else to do, he reached for her and pulled her into an embrace, trying and failing to avoid getting his blood on her unsoiled whiteness. 'Seeing that hurts more than anything.'

'Kurosaki-kun…' the girl seemed speechless at his actions, but the glow of her cheeks gave away her delicate emotions to the traitor standing in the corner. She summoned that strange power of hers, bathing the boy in golden light as she began to stitch his wound closed, blood disappearing as the whiteness of the clothes returned. As she worked she frowned a little at the scratch and bite marks adorning her friend's body, wondering how he had gotten these injures but not daring to ask.

The room was enveloped in silence for a few moments as Orihime worked her magic, and all the while she was healing Ichigo's injuries he was scanning her body for any wound that she might bear, causing her to blush deeper behind the golden shield of her shun shun rikka. She seemed unharmed but it was difficult to tell since she was wearing such modest clothing. He was the one to break the silence, almost whispering,

'They haven't hurt you, have they?' She blinked in surprise, waving her hands as she answered,

'Oh, no, no, they haven't.' She touched her hand to her forehead, pulling a face as she spoke, 'I've injured myself a few times by falling off of the bed or tripping over but I can heal myself right up, and Ulquiorra-san makes sure nothing happens to me.' Ulquiorra was protecting her? Ichigo couldn't describe how odd it was to hear that.

'Good, that's good. I'm glad you're alright.' The redhead smiled for the first time since he'd been brought here, feeling that as long as he could be here with his friend for even a short time, if he could have some affirmation that she was safe, and the strength to believe that Urahara and the cat woman would be looking after the rest of his friends back home, he could beat Aizen. He could win, he could resist every torture thrown at him. He had to, for them.

As long as they were safe.

'That will suffice, Orihime-chan.' That voice cut through the warm and fluffy atmosphere that had enveloped that room, causing the resolve building in Ichigo's heart to falter for a moment as he caught the blank look in Orihime's eyes as he spoke. She immediately withdrew her power, and Ichigo shot the ex-captain with a look that could kill a lesser man. He hated him for making her so subdued, so unlike the Orihime he had come to know and love as a dear friend. He had to get her out of here before they sucked all the life from her.

He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, silently commanding him to move. And so he did, not wishing to kick up a fuss and frighten Orihime further by having himself punished in front of her. As Aizen turned to leave, Ichigo took a chance and leaned in close to his friend, whispering his promise in her ear.

'I'll get you out of here, I swear. Don't worry anymore.' Drawing back he could see the tears glistening in her eyes, and with one last sympathetic glance, he turned and followed his captor from the room.

As the door slammed shut behind them, Orihime sank to her knees on the floor, tears trickling down her face and dripping on her stained uniform.

'Ichigo-kun… you idiot.'

* * *

This chapter was going to be longer but, i thought it was a good length as it was.  
The next one will be on its way soon! (I'm on a roll with this one, hah.)

Reviews? That'd be lovely thanks :3


	6. Breakdown

_A/N: This chapter contains a fairly graphic (18+) non con scene. If you don't like that then don't read, or feel free to skip that part._

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**Chapter 6: Breakdown**

'_It's not the time to breakdown.  
It's not the time to breakdown.  
It's not the time to break up this love,  
Keep it together now.  
It's not the time to break.'_

The halls of Las Noches were eerily silent, the lifelessness that hung in the air smothered any sound emanating from other parts of the palace, and so it seemed to Ichigo that the sound of his footsteps were all that existed in this place. The ex-captain in front of him made no sound as he walked, his stride so elegant that he seemed to glide rather than walk as lesser beings did. This lack of sound and the sheer colourlessness of the place created the illusion of walking in a dream, and the orange haired teen was feeling more asleep than awake even as his feet carried him forwards, blindly following the man he despised. He had been relieved to see Orihime, to see that his friend was unharmed, but he still felt the burn of shame in his stomach, remembering how he had caved to that bastard's demands. And it was bad enough that he couldn't keep the memory of what had happened last time he'd been in a lonely corridor with Aizen from the forefront of his mind…

'Are you satisfied now pet?' The illusion of unreality broke as the lord's nonchalant voice split the void of soundlessness.

'Satisfied?' Ichigo's voice cracked unwillingly as he spoke, his throat was dry and he would not admit that it was fear that had drained the moisture from his mouth. Trying to glare a hole in the older man's back, he swallowed and tried to speak again, 'With what?'

'Why, with Orihime-chan of course.' That cruel smile was back, 'I trust you are overjoyed to discover that she remains unharmed.'

'Don't play mind games with me bastard, of course I'm happy that she's alright. I'd destroy anyone or anything that tried to hurt her.'

'_But what if you couldn't? Wouldn't that just be torturous? Wouldn't that just __**destroy**__**you**__?'_

'Is that so?' Aizen mused out loud. With his back turned to the boy and that sadistic grin hidden from view he pressed him for information, 'Tell me about her.'

'Orihime? What? Why?'

'Yes, Orihime. I want you to tell me about how you met, how you became friends, why you treasure her so? And why? Because if you don't…'

In a movement quicker than any eye could hope to see, Ichigo found himself backhanded to the floor. Landing awkwardly upon his ankle, he barely had time to cry out before the traitor was upon him, dropping down to one knee above the boy, but still seeming to tower over him, leaning in close to impart his next words in a cruel hiss,

'Then I'll drag you back to her room by your hair and violate you in front of her. What do you think that would do to her, Ichigo-kun?'

Ichigo's mouth hung open for a moment, as soon as the man had gotten close to him he had frozen up, his heartbeat increasing rapidly as adrenaline flooded through his veins and his fight or flight instinct kicked in strongly, but he couldn't move as terror clouded his brain. This was why it took a few moments for these words to sink in to the shinigami's addled brain, and by the time they had the ex-captain was already running those fingers through his hair, gripping tightly at the hairs at the base of Ichigo's skull as though he was going to pull him in for another rough kiss. Bracing his neck to avoid being forced into such a thing, Ichigo growled, teeth drawing back in a feral grimace.

'You wouldn't dare!' Sparks of fear flew across Ichigo's skin, his hands curled into useless fists as he dug his nails into the floor in rage. He would dare, and they both knew it.

'Try me pet.' The lord's face was dangerously close to Ichigo's now as he purred, 'You'll find that I am capable of inflicting more cruelty and torture on you than you can possibly envision.'

He'd never even imagined that Aizen would do such a thing, he'd really underestimated how far the ex-captain was prepared to go, and it was more than Ichigo could take. He could imagine the look on Orihime's innocent face; he could picture how terror and horror would contort her sweet appearance and how deeply she would be hurt. She was so _pure_, and it was one thing he could not allow, he could not let these fuckers take away any more of her innocence.

'_Even if it meant bowing to this man?'_

'Well pet? What do you think?' Aizen tugged sharply on the hairs he was still grasping, growing impatient with the blank expression on the boy's face as he considered his options, he much preferred to see the redhead's expression that of one overflowing with fear and helplessness.

'No, Aizen-sama.' he felt like he was choking on these words, digging his nails into the palm of his hands as he refused to meet those terrifying eyes. He felt a weight lift from him and looked up to see the lord already walking away, turning for a moment to glance back at the boy on the ground,

'Good boy.' He purred as he ordered, 'Come.' Ichigo uncomfortably complied, humiliation still flowing through his body. 'So, tell me about your relationship with her.' Ichigo shuffled his feet a little as he walked, feeling incredibly strange at talking like this with someone he would love to rip limb from limb, and whom he was sure would also like to do the same to him. He cleared his throat a little to try and eradicate the fog from his head and focus on Orihime. He didn't know why Aizen was so interested but he wanted to give away as little information as he could get away with, since he was sure that whatever motives the man had, they couldn't been any good.

'Well, she's been in my class for a few years now, and I spoke to her a little but didn't know that much about her until recently.' He considered explaining about Tatsuki and how he came to know Orihime through her but decided not to, better not to get her involved in this at all. 'A few days after I became a shinigami, Orihime was attacked by a hollow and we saved her. Then she was attacked again which seemed to awake her own powers and she fought the hollow off by herself. Because of this she found out about Rukia and I being shinigami, and when we went to Soul Society to rescue Rukia, she insisted on coming and, even though she couldn't fight, I don't think we could've done it without her.' It occurred to Ichigo that Aizen probably already knew all of this, but screw it, he'd told him to explain how they'd became friends and that's what he was doing. 'I swore to her that I'd protect her, since she's too compassionate to fight others. I swore that I'd never see her cry again… That's why I came here, to save her from you fucking bastards.'

'Interesting… So you disregard whatever happens to you on the grounds that she is safe?' The lord cut in, he could tell by the swearing that the boy was getting overly emotional. 'You regard your friends as more important than yourself?'

Ichigo blinked at this question, furrowing his brow as he replied,

'Of course. They're the whole reason I'm doing this.'

'Wonderful…' the lord mused as he pulled open a door from a wall that had seemed totally blank a moment before, placing a hand on the small of Ichigo's back and shoving him into the room with enough force to make him trip. 'Stay here pet, and try not to cause any trouble. I have other matters I must attend to.'

And with that he was gone, the door sliding shut noiselessly, leaving no indication that it had been there a moment ago.

'Fuck! You asshole!' Ichigo shouted out of confusion and frustration and because he'd fallen on his ankle again, and now pain was shooting up his leg. What had that been about anyway? Asking him all those questions about Orihime… And the way Aizen had spoken, he'd sounded pleased, and anything that pleased that bastard couldn't be good for him.

'Agh! Fuck!' he screamed in exasperation as he punched the wall, his frustration only increasing as he drew back his fist to see that it hadn't even left a mark on the pristine whiteness. Why was he so goddamn weak? If it wasn't for that fucking collar... He raised his hands to his throat, tugging in vain at the red band that encircled his neck. He knew it was useless but at least he was trying something, it made him feel slightly more in control to be doing something, _anything. _He pulled and twisted until his neck was rubbed red and sore and his well of anguish was not nearly run dry when he slumped exhausted against the wall, tears scorching down his cheeks.

Nothingness flooded his mind as a self-defence measure as he collapsed upon the floor, fingers still wound around his collar. He felt completely void of all emotion, he didn't want to think, didn't want to feel anything anymore, not if this was the cost of feeling, of caring, of loving. He felt hollow, empty, like the creatures that inhabited this place. If he stayed here any longer he'd become like them, emotionless, driven by instinct and base desires.

He felt his eyes slipping shut again, and silently cursed the object that was draining his energy, his power and his very life. But there was nothing he could do, and for now it might just be best to…

'_Sleep.'_

**

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**

Urahara Kisuke paced the floor of his shop, a habit of his which had resurfaced along with the sleepless nights of late. He ran his fingers through neglected blonde tresses, collapsing at a desk to rub at the darker than usual rings beneath his eyes. Nightime was beginning to give way to the light of a new day, the first beams of sunlight flitting through the windows, but the shopkeeper barely noticed, feeling his eyes slide shut under a wave of lethargy and fatigue. He had been working nonstop, working on the one thing that he believed would give him even a chance of rescuing them. But progress was slow, and even the brilliant scientist had limits. And now he was reaching them.

"Ichigo…" he murmured, his head falling forward into his hands as he fought his losing battle against his body and the screaming need for rest.

His hat was absent from his head, and the blonde didn't seem to care.

Or even notice.

**

* * *

**

Ichigo was still slumped on the floor when the lord returned, entering noiselessly by the door that didn't even seem to exist. He stood for a moment, contemplating the bizarre show of anguish he had seen the boy display, his emotions were all over the place and this, Aizen knew, made him more vulnerable than ever. Best to strike hard now while the teenager was caught in the whirlwind of his own emotion. Before he knew it, the traitor would sweep him away.

Aizen sunk to his knees before the snoozing boy, studying his sleeping face with an odd kind of indifferent interest. For a moment he considered moving the sleeping shinigami to the bed, but quickly dismissed the out of place thought.

'_Pets shouldn't sleep in the same bed as their masters after all.'_

As he made to rise from his improper position crouched on the floor, he was stopped by a hand that reached out to grab his wrist. The lord raised an eyebrow in inquisitive surprise as the boys eyelids began to flutter open, the child was still not yet fully awake and it was in this state that he mumbled a little, questioning the identity of the one that he could feel before him.

'_A powerful reiatsu… Was it…?'_

'Kisuke?' he murmured, and for a moment the dreamlike illusion held and it was the arm of the shopkeeper which he had grasped, the faint wisps of reiatsu surrounding him had that terrifyingly powerful but overwhelming gentle feel of the blonde, his musky scent filled Ichigo's nostrils and as he fluttered his eyelashes to bring the world into focus, he saw swirling colours of white, pale yellow and green.

'I'm afraid not pet.' Ichigo's heart stilled and cheeks flushed as the realisation of what he had just said swept over him.

'But really, calling your master by another's name, that's incredibly rude don't you think?' Aizen shifted his position so that it was now he that grasped the others wrists, pinning them to the wall either side of the trembling boy's head. 'I'm afraid I should punish you for that.'

Ochre eyes widened in fear as Aizen leaned in to take a harsh kiss, biting down roughly upon Ichigo's bottom lip. As the boy parted his lips a little to hiss in response to the pain, Aizen slid his tongue into the damp cavern of his mouth, and he thought that he could almost taste the fear so restrained in the teen. As embarrassed as he was to admit it to himself, Ichigo would've screamed if not for those lips smothering his mouth.

Heat flooded Ichigo's veins as Aizen moved his mouth to the boy's neck, planting teeth marks and bruises to replace the ones that had been healed away by Orihime, and even now that his mouth was freed, Ichigo found that he couldn't bring himself to speak. He shuddered as Aizen spoke against his sensitive skin.

'I must admit Ichigo pet; at first I thought that your devotion to your friends was naught but a farce…'

Ichigo's confusion replaced the fear and he found that he was able to speak again, he frowned,

'What are you talking about…?'

He cried out in pain as Aizen tightened his grip on his wrists, digging nails into the delicate skin. Ichigo arched his body against the wall, inadvertently pressing himself against the ex-captain. Aizen sighed in pleasure as he latched his mouth onto Ichigo's earlobe, nibbling gently and smirking as the mix of pleasure and pain drew a moan from the redhead.

'You're too young to know the true cost of loyalty and sacrifice' Aizen replied as he leaned in to seize abused lips in a biting embrace, capturing Ichigo's broken bottom lip between his teeth and drawing it into his own mouth. Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut, this couldn't be happening, not again. He couldn't possibly be this weak… What the hell was he doing, just sitting there and letting this bastard take advantage of him like this? Anger welled in his throat and he retaliated, moving to sink his own teeth into Aizen's lip. He heard the older man hiss in pain and felt his face sting as his head was snapped to the side by the force of the smack that he received. His lip split and blood assaulted his mouth. He cursed and spat the red liquid onto the floor, doubling over in pain as Aizen dealt another blow to his stomach.

'B-bastard…' he spat as Aizen recaptured him, pulling him up from the ground and pushing him down upon the bed, holding his wrists above his head with one hand as he straddled Ichigo's waist.

'I thought you would have learned your lesson by now,' the brunette grinned, slipping a hand beneath Ichigo's robes to trace patterns on his chest. 'I suppose you need harsher punishment.'

'Don't touch me!' the boy cried, panic sparking in his eyes. Aizen frowned and proceeded to pull open his robes, exposing Ichigo's chest to the cold air. He thrashed around beneath Aizen, fuelled by terror and adrenaline until the lord supressed him, pushing him down with the sheer force of his reiatsu.

Ichigo blinked away tears. He couldn't stand being so helpless, he could hardly breathe and even with his hands now released he couldn't move as he lay crushed like a bug beneath Aizen's reiatsu and the warm body pressing him down into the soft bedsheets. He cried out as he felt a warm mouth assault his chest, a moist tongue flicking out to trace the contours of muscle, swirling around a nipple and teasing the bud until he coaxed a pained moan from the shinigami beneath him.

'Mmm, you're so sensitive Ichigo.' He teased, amused at the blush of embarrassment and rage that flushed the boy's cheeks.

'S-stop it!' Ichigo pleaded, 'Please just stop!'

'Why would I do that,' the brunette smirked as he bit down lightly on the teen's raised bud, making him hiss in masochistic pleasure, 'when you're making such delicious noises?'

He kissed Ichigo again, prising his bruised lips open and tasting the other man. Ichigo groaned, why was it that something so wrong, so horribly wrong, could feel so good? Why was it that the man he hated more than anything in the world could do this to him, and his body could enjoy it? Why was it that he tasted so good?

Aizen drew back, releasing the teen's lips to allow him to draw breath. Hazy eyes regarded him, lust and terror and wounded pride shining in ochre eyes.

'Why won't you leave me alone?' he whispered, words tripping from abused lips. The lord grinned as he made short work of Ichigo's clothing, sliding his hakama down his legs with deliberate slowness, letting his fingers brush the insides of the teen's thighs, drawing a strangled whimper from the boy.

Ichigo cried out as he felt cold fingers circling his already painful entrance. 'N-no! Don't touch me there!' he cried out as he felt fingers push inside of him, stretching his tight skin until it became painful. Ichigo squirmed beneath him as fingers pushed deeper inside of him, sending sparks of pain shooting up from his lower back.

'Would you rather be taken without preparation?' Aizen hissed as he fucked Ichigo with his fingers. He felt those fingers brush against something and pleasure burst through the pain for a moment, making his limp member twitch. He couldn't stop the sound of pleasure that escaped him then, and Aizen smirked. 'Such a dirty boy.' He removed his hand and Ichigo had a moment of relief before he saw that the older man was removing his own hakama, letting his clothes fall on the floor to join Ichigo's. Aizen moved to pin Ichigo's wrists to either side of his head again. 'Such a little whore.'

'I'm not!' Ichigo protested, 'I don't want this!' Aizen ignored his cries as he flipped him onto his stomach, pushing him into the bed with more force now. He leaned forward to bury his face into Ichigo's neck, latching on with his mouth to suck and tease the abused flesh. Heat was building in Ichigo's stomach and he felt sick and disgusted with himself, with his traitorous body for actually taking pleasure from this treatment. He cried out as he felt Aizen's arousal brush against his rear and he felt those fingers working their way inside of him again, stretching him painfully.

'NO!' he yelled, 'Please not again!' he would not give into the heat in his stomach; he would not give into this man. But there was nothing he could do but scream when he felt Aizen push himself inside of him, sheathing himself entirely in Ichigo's tight heat. He arched his back against the pain, pushing himself up from the bed and against the older man.

'I'll never leave you Ichigo,' Aizen whispered cruelly as he began to thrust roughly inside of him, those cold hands caressing his chest and teasing his nipples. 'Because now you belong to me, and I'll never let you leave.'

Ichigo bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut to try and block out reality as he felt his delicate skin tear and bleed with the rough treatment. He felt his own blood warm on his legs. Disgusting, he really was disgusting. He felt the lord pull out and thrust roughly back in, deeper than before and with the pain came an overwhelming burst of pleasure that buzzed through his body and forced another moan from his lips. He could feel himself getting hard. Disgusting.

'That's right, let me hear you moan.' Aizen purred as he raked his fingernails along the boy's hips. 'Let me hear how badly you want it.'

'Why are you doing this?' Ichigo whimpered, crying out as each harsh thrust brought with it that sickening mix of pain and pleasure. 'I'm not worth this!' Aizen laughed, his lips brushing against the teen's delicate earlobe.

'You really think that I want you in my army? As you are you are nothing compared to my espada.' He slammed his hips into Ichigo, relishing the way the younger man cried out and moaned at the same time. 'But I can make you into something more powerful that those fools in Soul Society could even dream of. Once I turn you into an arrancar and your hollow takes control and fights for me, nobody will be able to stop us.'

Ichigo's eyes widened further. Arrancarisation? That was Aizen's plan for him? Fear flooded his veins to compete with the heat that rushed through his body as his prostate was slammed into to again and again.

'No! Never! I'll never let you do that to me.' He panted, sweat slicking his skin as he squirmed and moaned beneath his most hated enemy.

'Really pet? I'm afraid you don't have a choice in the matter.' Above him Aizen gasped as he moved inside the teen. 'Take this for example, you do protest so yet you're enjoying this aren't you?'

'N-no, no I'm not!' Ichigo groaned as he felt that sinful mouth latch onto his skin, he couldn't possibly be enjoying something like this.

'Your body begs to differ pet.' Aizen mocked as he slipped a hand beneath the boy to fondle his straining erection.

'Don't!' Ichigo pleaded, tears filling his eyes as shame flooded his body in reaction to the pleasurable touch. Above him he felt Aizen's pace quicken, stroking him along with his thrusts until the heat in Ichigo's stomach exploded. He screamed in pleasure and disgust as he came, his muscles tightening around Aizen as he orgasmed. The brunette removed his hand from Ichigo's spent member in favour of tangling in the boy's hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck and sink his teeth into it in a display of aggression and ownership.

Ichigo cried out as, with a few final frantic thrusts the lord tensed and orgasmed, empting his seed inside of the teen. Sweat coated their bodies as Aizen pulled out of the younger man, leaving him sprawled upon the bedsheets, tears still leaking from ochre eyes and dropping upon the blood and semen stained sheets. He pulled his hakama back on, smoothing himself down as though he hadn't just taken somebody against their will.

Ichigo scrambled up from the bed, wrapping the thin sheets around him to preserve his dignity. Aizen caught him before he could move as effortlessly as though he were a child, and gripping him tight so that he could not move he pulled him into what could almost be called an embrace as the shinigami sobbed against his chest. He pushed Ichigo from him, keeping a strong grip on his shoulders as he continued talking as though nothing had happened.

'Your friends give you strength, but they are also your weakness… You should know better than to let others discover your weakness pet.' He smirked as he spoke, pressing gentle lips to Ichigo's eyelids before placing a hand on his head to shove him down upon his knees.

Aizen's hand moved to his waist, unsheathing his sword and slashing it downwards in a curving arch before Ichigo. The tip of the sword caught him across the chest, drawing a red gash upon his skin. Aizen moved it so that the sword was pointed directly at Ichigo's right eye.

'As much pleasure as it would give me to gouge your eyes out right here and now, I want you to be able to see this…' the lord threatened, his voice so cold it sent freezing chills shooting up and down Ichigo's spine.

Ichigo's voice shook as he replied,

'Wha-what?'

Aizen knelt, cradling Ichigo's chin in his hand, holding him firmly to give him no other option than to face him and show the terror concealed in his eyes. He adjusted his zanpakutō so that Ichigo's eyeballs were no longer in any danger, choosing instead to rest the blade across the boy's throat. Dangerous eyes piercing deep into the frightened teen's ones, the lord of Las Noches spoke, words slipping from his lips in a soft tone laced with deadly intent.

'Shatter, _kyōka suigetsu_.'

Ichigo's pupils dilated and he blinked in confusion as the blade of Aizen's sword seemed to vanish. A strong hand curled into a fist around the front of Ichigo's robes as he was pulled to his feet again, spun around so that his back was pressed to Aizen's chest. Strong arms encircled his waist, holding him tight so that his frantic squirming was rendered useless.

'Enter.' The lord commanded. At his words the door materialised again, and through it stepped the raven haired 4th espada; a pale, black nailed hand gripping the thin wrist of Orihime Inoue.

'Orihime!' Ichigo cried, struggling harder against the arms that held him.

'Hold still pet.' Aizen's grip tightened until it became painful, the air squeezed from Ichigo's chest until he couldn't breathe.

'Kurosaki-kun…' Orihime's voice came in a breathless whisper, her face was lightly bruised and terror screamed in her eyes, her lips were pressed together so hard they turned white. Tear tracks shone on her cheeks and as she reached out a hand towards him he could see little crescent moon marks in her palm from where her nails had been digging in.

'You bastards! What have you done to her!' he growled as best he could with the arms still compressing his thorax.

'Nothing yet.' Aizen whispered, a shudder running through Ichigo's body as he felt warm breath stroking his ear. 'Remember pet, you brought this upon yourself.' He taunted, nuzzling orange strands as he pressed lips to the boy's hair. Ichigo felt fear spike in his stomach at these words, a faint realisation of what was about to happen curling at the corners of his mind.

'Don't hurt her, if you hurt her I'll...!' Ichigo was cut off by the calloused hand that clamped over his mouth.

'Ssh shh pet, I want you to be able to hear all of this.' The older man hissed viciously as he rested his head on the boy's shoulder, cocking it in an interested manner as he regarded the two that stood just inside the room.

Ulquiorra had been standing impassively and disinterestedly in the corner next to the sobbing Orihime, but now he moved into action as though he had received some invisible signal from his master. He twisted the girl's arm behind her back, pushing her down onto her knees facing away from him.

Ichigo's eyes widened, he was screaming inside his head. His nerve ends were on fire, every fibre of his being aching to move, to get that monster away from her, to save her. But he couldn't, he was helpless and worse still he had to leave her helpless and exposed and alone. The emotionless espada brought his sword to rest against the exposed skin of her neck. She gasped and whimpered as tears glistened in her eyes, but she didn't scream. She turned those eyes towards her friend and Ichigo felt his heart break at the pain and despair shining in those eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but whether she was going to plead or deliver some blame or reassurance Ichigo would never know. Her words were cut short by the blade pressing in on her throat, the sharp edge breaking her skin to bring blood to bead at the surface.

Ichigo screamed and fought with all his might, but in the arms of the lord he was too weak. He could barely even move, never mind save her. He was utterly useless.

And as he watched the blade cut through the skin and bone of his beloved friend, his mind broke.

He cracked. Aizen released him from his grasp and he fell to the floor, voice now freed he gave in to the scream that had been building in his throat since the moment he saw her.

'ORIHIME! NO!'

He shattered. Blood covered the carpet; it seemed to flow in an endless red river from the torn flesh of his friend. Her body fell, all life drained away with the blood and those eyes, those eyes once so vibrant and full of life now dull now vacant, wide and staring but never again to see anything.

'NOO!'

He fractured. Ichigo lifted his hands to see them covered in blood, her blood, her life. He screamed again, holding her body close to him, feeling the warmth of her blood soaking the sheets that covered him.

'I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Orihime!'

He splintered. He had failed, utterly failed. He'd tried so hard, he'd gone through so much, stretched himself to the limit but he still couldn't save her. He screamed again as he realised that the sheets he was wrapped in had turned red. He scrambled away from her body until his back hit the wall at the opposite end of the room. He shook as he watched her lying there. He cried out as Ulquiorra removed her body, dragging her from the room as though she was nothing but a piece of meat.

Aizen regarded this scene as calmly as though nothing had happened. This, unknown to Ichigo, was true. Nothing had happened. Total hypnosis was a powerful thing against those who did not understand it. He'd always known that breaking the boy this way would be too easy, that's why he hadn't bothered using it before. But time was running short and the amusement of Ichigo's stubbornness was wearing thin. He knelt before the boy curled into a ball on the floor, reaching out to grip his chin and force those eyes to meet his own. He saw the fire in those eyes dying as pain doused the shine of the flames, leaving behind nothing but the dull look of utter despair and fear.

'I like seeing the fear in your eyes.' He murmured as those frightened eyes flared with hatred. 'It's something that you'll need to have, that underlying, ever present fear. You'll lose your memory, and all emotion except that constant instinct. And it will swear your obedience to me once I turn you into an arrancar.'

'I-I'll never! Never fight for you! You bastard! You k-killed her!' Ichigo sobbed, unable to quell the tears that streamed from fading eyes.

'That's what you think.' The lord smiled, 'But this is only the beginning my pet, you'll see them all destroyed before I turn you. I will break your human heart and you will become my loyal soldier.' He stood to leave, the boy on the floor too overcome to speak. He stepped over the pool of blood decorating the floor, straightening his jacket as he turned to 'Ulquiorra' who stood in the hallway, with no trace of the fake body of Orihime to be seen.

'Let him see the bodies of his younger sisters next.'

And as he heard the subsequent cacophony of Ichigo's screams reverberating through the hallways, he thought that their sound was so delicious, he really should've employed this method sooner.

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_A/N: Reviews are always really very appreciated. This is a horrid chapter really, with non con and (sort of) character death, so I'd love to know what you thought of it._


	7. Electrical Storm

**Chapter 7: Electrical Storm**

'_You're in my mind all of the time,  
I know that's not enough.__  
If the sky can crack,  
there must be some way back,  
__for love and only love.'_

The Lord of Las Noches sat at the head of the elongated white meeting table, only half listening to the pink haired espada currently briefing the room on the latest developments with his ever countless experiments and research projects. The universal darkness painted shadows across the white furniture and tangled in orange strands as Ichigo sat slumped and blank faced in the seat beside him.

The fire of his ochre eyes now seemed dulled as he regarded the room with disinterest, staring out from a pale and haggard face. The red band of the restrictive collar stood out more than ever along with the fading cuts and bruises adorning the whitish skin of the shinigami's face and neck, the marks revealing only the bare minimum of his mistreatment. It was upon him that most of Aizen's attention was focused, much to the irritation of the narcissistic octava. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, an action that did not go unnoticed.

'That will suffice, Szayel Aporro.' Aizen dismissed him with a casual wave of his hand. The spectacled espada pressed his lips together in a tight line but he did as was commanded, dipping his head in an empty bow as he took up his seat at the meeting table. The lord turned to his soldiers then, wordlessly capturing their attention as he cocked his head to lean his cheek against the back of his hand.

'Thank you for your attention my dear espada.' He spoke then, the velvet voice gentle but in some way harsh in the same instance. 'This meeting will now conclude.' He turned to the pink haired scientist, revealing that he had in fact been listening to the sociopath's ramblings. 'I shall now go along to see the results of your latest experiment.'

'Thank you, Aizen-sama.' Szayel mumbled as he rose, pressing his white gloved hands to the table. The rest of the company did likewise, a weary silence enveloping the room. None of the arrancar were too pleased with Ichigo's attendance. They were unnerved, not by his mere presence but by how subdued he was. Even those who had not fought him beforehand knew of his power and fiery attitude, and to see him now silent and unresisting was almost terrifying even to those who long abandoned such emotion. It was proof indeed of Aizen's power and the quiet awe resting upon the table showed the espada's recognition of this.

Grimmjow however was neither unnerved nor awed by the presence of the shinigami, but rather was annoyed and irritated by it. The mere fact that somebody he wanted to rip limb from limb was sitting quietly across the table from him was bad enough, but the knowledge that he was not permitted to touch his prey was even worse. The shinigami was Aizen's property now, and nobody would hurt and torture the boy but the man himself. Teal eyes glared as he watched Aizen rise from his seat to run fingers through the boy's hair, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

'Yes Aizen-sama.' Ichigo's reply was almost inaudible and was totally unrecognisable as his own voice, all spark and emotion gone. The expression on his face didn't change even a little as he was given his orders and replied, and he sat statue still as his master departed, leaving him sitting there alone.

The blue haired sexta remained seated too, slightly surprised that Aizen made no comment at his doing so. The rest of the espada left along with the lord, and the two other ex-captains were for once nowhere to be seen. Grimmjow's grin stretched from ear to ear as he realised that he'd just been left with a defenceless Ichigo. Alone. He wasn't ignorant enough to think that Aizen hadn't done this on purpose, knowing that sneaky bastard it was probably some sort of sick test, but for which one of them Grimmjow had no idea.

'_Fuck it'_, he thought. _'I'm not passing up an opportunity like this.' _He rose from his seat and made his way nonchalantly over to the other end of the table where the orange haired shinigami sat. Irritation twitched at the corner of his mind as the boy showed absolutely no recognition of his presence and he had to resist the urge to smack the ignorance right out of him.

'Hey, shinigami.' Grimmjow snarled. Still no reaction from Ichigo. He growled low in his throat as he slammed his fist down on the table in front of him. 'I'm talking to you, you fucking idiot.' Nothing. He felt rage building in his chest, nobody ignored Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez and got away with all his limbs, especially not some snot nosed shinigami kid like him. He grabbed Ichigo's chin in a tight grip, forcing the boy to lift his head to look at him and for a moment he was shocked by the utter lack of recognition in his eyes.

'ICHIGO!' he barked, angry at the fact that he was being ignored. At the sound of his name something stirred in Ichigo's eyes for a moment before fading away again.

'Grimmjow.' He murmured emotionlessly, looking at the espada now as though he couldn't really see him.

'What the hell is wrong with you shinigami?' the arrancar hissed, no trace of the anger and fury that were always roaring within Ichigo when he confronted the sixth espada could be seen in him now, and that infuriated Grimmjow beyond belief. 'Don't fucking ignore me.'

'Aizen… sama' there was a slight hesitation in his voice as Ichigo spoke the name '…He instructed me not to confront you, Grimmjow.'

'Aizen-_sama_?' Grimmjow mocked, 'Here I thought you were just pretending, but you really are his little bitch now.'

'I-' Ichigo started to speak but cut himself off as a choking sound rose in his throat. 'I have to- have to obey or,' he tried to swallow the heavy lump that had settled in his throat, and his next words came out in a hollow whisper. 'I can't take it, I'm not strong enough.'

Grimmjow sneered as he released Ichigo's face to grab his shoulders with both hands, gripping him firmly and giving him a harsh shake.

'So what'd he do to you eh? Torture? You're not the type to cave so easily to a little bit of pain.' As if to illustrate this point the espada curled his hands, digging his sharp claw-like nails into the shinigami's shoulders. As he did so the neck of Ichigo's robes slipped a little, exposing a bruising bite mark littering the base of his neck. Frowning, he leaned in closer to bring their faces to within an inch of each other. He regarded the bruises painting Ichigo's neck, the boy's pouty abused lips, that bite mark and something clicked in the arrancar's mind.

Grimmjow moved to run his nose along the curve of Ichigo's neck, an action that would've normally drawn a shudder and a string of curses from the boy, now however Ichigo barely flinched. He inhaled deeply, taking in the musky scent of the boy intermingled with the smell of blood and a sharp aroma that the espada could not fail to recognise.

'I can smell _him_ on you shinigami.' He hissed as his teal eyes narrowed. 'I gotta admit that's a new low even for him… Did he rape you?' he whispered cruelly in his ear, relishing the way the boy's shoulders stiffened beneath his fingers, those ochre eyes finally widening in fear and pain. Much better. Ichigo's breath caught in his throat as he choked on some rising emotion before squashing it back down inside of himself.

'Did he make you scream Ichigo? Hmm?' Grimmjow murmured, planting harsh kisses along Ichigo's neck as he moved to straddle him, pleased that he had found a new way to defeat and humiliate him. 'Did he torment your body in unimaginable ways? Is that how he broke you?' The espada laughed against the shinigami's skin. 'You little slut.' he hissed as he nibbled along the arc of Ichigo's delicate earlobes, running hands down over his chest. 'I bet you loved every minute of it didn't you?'

'No!' something close to emotion jumped in Ichigo's voice before rapidly fading away to a blank monotone. 'No. I… He…' His eyes slipped close and Grimmjow felt the boy tense beneath him. 'Nobody is supposed to touch me except Aizen-sama.'

'Stop me then.' Grimmjow challenged as he slipped a hand under Ichigo's robes, running his fingers along the scar tissue that marked the boy's chest.

'I… I can't.' Ichigo almost sighed, his voice bearing a resigned tone of submission. His body tried to disobey his mind, muscles continuing to tense under Grimmjow's fingers. 'I can't stop you.'

'Tch, grow a fucking backbone.' Grimmjow growled, flicking a finger over Ichigo's chest before withdrawing his hands to clench the front of the boy's robes and pull him closer. 'You're pathetic shinigami.' he spat, 'You're not even worth killing anymore and you're definitely not worth fighting.' He disentangled their bodies as he stood, scuffing his feet along the floor as he moved to leave without another glance at the impassive boy.

'I can't believe I considered you my rival.' Grimmjow murmured the parting blow as he exited the room, not noticing the way Ichigo twitched and blinked as those words were spoken. For a good while after that, the shinigami boy didn't move a muscle save for the unconscious rising and falling of his chest as his addled brain processed what had just happened. After some minutes Ichigo shifted in his seat, slowing bending his legs and drawing his knees up to press against his chest. He curled his arms around his legs and sat like that, frozen in his seat until a single solitary tear sneaked from an unblinking eye and rolled down his cheek.

He didn't know how long it had been since the moment he saw the spillage of his dear friend's blood, he was living in a suspended state of reality now and time seemed to move differently until it lost any meaning that it once held. Something had broken within him that day and had continued to fracture as the days passed. He now lived as a mere remnant of his former self, Grimmjow's taunts had made him remember this somewhere in the back of his mind and the pain was returning, slowing but surely pushing in past the psychological boundaries that had been set in his mind. Ichigo pressed his hands against his forehead, trying to block out the pain, trying to block out everything but he could feel the panic rising in his chest, and somehow it felt good. It had been so long since he had felt anything; even pain seemed to lose its knife edge in Ichigo's skewed reality.

'What's the matter pet?' the panic rising in Ichigo's body froze over as the anaesthetic numbness that always flooded his body in the presence of Aizen overcame him. He forced himself to relax, letting his arms drop to his side and his feet fall back to the floor as he uncurled his body.

'Nothing, Aizen-sama.' He responded blankly. In the presence of this man he preferred to stay silent, but he knew that to ignore a direct question from his master would be incredibly foolish.

'Is that so?' In the blink of an eye Aizen flash stepped from the doorway where he stood over to where Ichigo sat. 'I think you're lying to me Ichigo…' He grabbed the boy's wrist in a grip tight enough to cut off the blood circulation. 'You know I don't like it when you lie to me.'

'I-it was Grimmjow! Ichigo cried out, more frightened by being touched so suddenly than the pain of having his wrist squeezed. 'H-he touched me…' He muttered, 'I couldn't stop him.'

'I see… What a pity.' Aizen tugged on his arm suddenly, pulling him from his seat to fall on his knees upon the ground. Ichigo's expression didn't change even with the sudden pain shooting up his legs and through his arms as he was pulled upright into a standing position. Strong arms encircled him, pulling him until he was pressed against the traitor in what could almost be described as an embrace.

But when those hands tangled in his hair, shivers did not run down his spine.

'What did you let him do to you?' Aizen whispered as he pressed lips to Ichigo's exposed neck, tasting flesh that had been defiled by the touch of another.

And when those lips pressed against his skin, he did not shudder.

'You know that you belong to me only.'

As Aizen sunk his teeth into his neck, Ichigo did not cry out in pain. And he did not protest when his lips were caught in a domineering kiss. The table dug into the small of his back as he was pushed backwards against it and even though those hands were roaming his body to divest him of his white cloth, he did not fight back. When the kiss deepened, Aizen's tongue working its way into his mouth to caress his own muscle, the thought of biting down on it didn't even cross his mind.

He was suddenly spun around, pushed forward over the table with that warm body pressing up against him, his clothing discarded upon the floor, and he wasn't even embarrassed by the thought that anyone could just walk in and see what was happening to him. He didn't flinch at the coldness of Aizen's hands as they swept over his chest, pinching and stroking his tender skin, and the sound of clothes falling from the other man's body didn't cause panic to bubble up in his chest.

When fingers penetrated him and his already raw skin was stretched he did not plead for it to stop. And when he felt Aizen push inside of him unprepared, tearing his already damaged entrance he did not scream. When he heard his master whispering obscenities in his ears, nibbling the tender lobes and massaging his chest with those cold hands he still felt nothing. No pain, no pleasure, no fear, no disgust, no shame. There was nothing resembling emotion, he was empty, he was _hollow._

But as he felt the traitor thrust roughly in and out of him, another sly tear escaped down his cheek, and somewhere deep in his subconscious he knew he was screaming.

He felt Aizen's release, disgustingly warm and sticky but there was no revulsion even as the lord pulled out of him and left him bent uncomfortably over the table. He had learned not to move until given permission, and only once Aizen had re-dressed himself was it given.

'Get up Ichigo.' He smirked, 'And get dressed, I'm taking you to the laboratory.'

'Yes Aizen-sama.' He spoke in that same unaffected monotone as he stood and pulled his clothes back on, trying in vain to clear up the mess left on his upper thighs.

'Come along pet.' Aizen commanded as he turned to leave.

And Ichigo did not even think to disobey him.

**

* * *

**

If he had still had the want in him to do so, Ichigo would've stared in wonder at the contents of the pink hair lunatic's laboratory. As it was he'd wandered through most of the rooms with his head down, eyes fixed on the ground and the feet of the one whom he was following. He was now sitting on what looked like an operating table in what looked like an operating theatre, the walls lined with painful looking implements, some of which he vaguely thought he recognised from his time spent with Gin and his little tools of torture. The flamboyant octava was poking and prodding him with interest, making all sorts of nasty little comments that fell upon deaf ears. Aizen stood in the background watching over the proceedings with a detached kind of interest.

'Well?' Aizen questioned. Ichigo himself had no clue what he was doing here. Not that it mattered, he barely knew what was going on half the time anyway and as it was he had no say in the proceedings even if he did know what was happening.

'I don't know Aizen-sama.' Szayel murmured as he examined the restrictive collar around Ichigo's neck. 'I created this reiatsu constraining device using the blueprints of those used previously but-' he cut himself off as something occurred to him. 'With respect my lord, should we really be discussing this in front of _him_?' he questioned, motioning towards Ichigo.

'It is fine, Szayel Aporro.' Aizen replied, 'He no longer has the will to retaliate.'

'I see…' Szayel coughed a little to cover his cynicism. 'Well at this rate the collar is not going to hold out much longer. The amount of reiatsu this boy is releasing is exponential. Most shinigami would expend all of their reiatsu and be held within the device forever, but this boys power is like a bottomless pit, if he doesn't run out soon then the device will break, and I shudder to think what would happen if all that energy is released at once.'

Aizen appeared to contemplate this information for a moment, and Ichigo would have done if the same if he was able. As it was he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a fully coherent thought, one that he was sure was his entirely. But again in his unconscious mind, bells were ringing and something was stirring.

'Can you create a new one?' Aizen asked.

'I can try, but it's difficult to create the device for him specifically without first knowing the limits of his reiatsu.' Szayel replied, secretly proud that he was being asked to do this important task for Aizen.

'I trust you will do your best.' Aizen replied with more than a trace of smirk on his face. 'Thank you _octava_, you may leave us now.' A nerve twitched in the espada's forehead, irritation swelling at the fact that he was being ordered out of his own rooms. But Szayel was no fool, he like all the others knew better than to go against Aizen even on a matter as small as this.

'Yes Aizen-sama.' He dipped his head in a curt bow before leaving with more than a trace of huffiness about him.

'Ichigo.' Aizen spoke, the silent command for him to start paying full attention not going unnoticed.

'Yes, Aizen-sama?' Ichigo replied, turning dulled eyes towards the brunette now standing directly in front of him. Aizen smirked a little, the novelty of hearing the furiously defiant boy say those words had not yet faded.

'Do you know what it is to become hollow, Ichigo?' he asked quietly, not meaning for Ichigo to give an answer. 'It is to become nothing, a primitive life form no better than a mindless beast, caring only about feeding on other souls. Hollows are born out of pain; love and hatred binding a soul to the World of the Living… They live in torment and filth until they are destroyed, by shinigami or others of their kind.' He paused for a moment, taking Ichigo's face in his hands as he stared into deadened eyes.

'When I turn you, you will not become like them. You will be a fully-fledged arrancar. All your precious memories will leave; you will have no emotion, no concept of love or companionship. You will have no friends, no comrades, no family, but you will not be as you are now. You will not be silent and broken; you will be finally be free. Ichigo, imagine it, no more pain, no more guilt or shame or such destructive emotion as _love_. You will fight no longer for those too weak to defend themselves, you will leave it all behind and fight only for me and yourself.' Aizen smiled, a gesture of false truths and fake promises as he leaned in to brush his lips against the impassive ones of the shinigami. 'And in your mind it will always have been that way, you will not remember this life and you will hurt no longer.'

Something rose in Ichigo's throat, he tried to swallow but it felt like his windpipe was being crushed from within. The air went out of his lungs and he swayed a little upon the table and if not for the arms holding him he would have fallen.

'What's the matter pet?' Aizen smirked, his voice laced with fake concern.

'I… I don't…' Ichigo gasped for breath as tears threatened at the corner of his eyes. 'I don't want to forget. I don't want to lose them.'

'Shh shh pet.' Aizen hushed, keeping up the façade of compassion. 'Don't cry, it will all be over soon, I promise.' His smirk grew even wider then as Ichigo choked on his own sorrow.

'My my.' Aizen mocked, wiping a tear from the boy's cheek. 'See what I mean, these feelings will only destroy you.' He cradled Ichigo's limp body in his arms, petting him like a child as the boy wrestled with his emotions.

They stayed that way for a few moments, until something seemed to catch the lord's attention from far off. Ichigo blinked in surprise as he was pushed back from the cold embrace. Aizen cocked his head a little, as though he was trying to listen to some far away sound. A satisfied smile crept over his face.

'So it is finally happening.' He murmured, an odd kind of delight evident in his voice. He took Ichigo's wrist and pulled him from the table, 'Follow me pet, you won't want to miss this.' Ichigo's heart dropped into his stomach, whatever was making the lord so excited could not bode well for him in any way. Not that it mattered, he'd given up long ago; all hope dying as he watched his friends and family perish before him.

He'd eventually come to understand that it was illusionary, he knew what Aizen's sword release could do but he'd never expected it to be so realistic. The desired effect was still achieved, even if his comrades were still alive it mattered not for now he knew what the man could do to them if he so wished. He'd seen his father and baby sisters gutted in front of his eyes, he'd watched countless ranks of his friends and comrades cut down and he'd watched the man he loved defeated and tortured until he screamed for death. And Orihime… He didn't know if what he'd seen was truly her or not, and Aizen wasn't telling. That question tormented Ichigo constantly, even when he was not fully aware of it. Even now, being dragged along the bleached corridors to meet whatever sick fate was making Aizen so pleased, his mind was focused fully on one thing.

Them.

He could take this, he could suffer anything if it meant they'd be safe. Renji called his self-sacrificing attitude 'selfish' and 'insulting', and he supposed it was. But if he had to be selfish to keep them safe then so be it. Even if they hated him for it…

He felt Aizen release his wrist and looking up realised that he had been brought to the throne room. He hadn't been here since the first day, when he'd been carried in unconscious and dumped unceremoniously at the lord's feet. It seemed so long ago, a moment buried in the past along with his former self.

'Sit.' Aizen commanded as he took up his seat upon the throne. A quick glance around showed that there were no other seats in the room, so he sat down on the uncomfortable floor at the base of the Lord's chair, crossing his legs and bowing his head to stare at the white ground. He felt Aizen reach down and tangle a hand in his hair, petting him like some domesticated animal. But there was not enough left of him to feel any humiliation. He didn't think there was enough of him left to feel anything. There was no pain when he was hit and cut and torn, no fear when he was threatened. There was no disgust when he was touched, when he was teased and erotic whispers rung in his ears he was neither aroused nor shamed, and when he was degraded he felt no indignity. His emotions were kept locked in a cage, trapped in the back of his mind and even more than feeling nothing he feared what would happen if the cage was sprung; the torrent of emotion to burst out and overcome him like a tidal wave. He let his eyes slide shut as he felt lethargy overtaking him, that damned collar draining what little energy he had left.

At the corner of his mind Ichigo heard quiet footsteps entering the room. But he was not concerned, he'd already been demeaned before all the residents of the palace, shown to be no more than a pet on a leash to his master. He felt the hand upon his head tense a little in anticipation as Aizen spoke,

'How nice to finally see you again… old friend.' An undercurrent of humour rang in that velvet voice, 'What brings you here?'

'Don't play your games with me Sosuke.' The reply came from an unseen but in no way unknown figure. 'You know why I'm here.'

The familiar voice froze Ichigo to his core, emotion screaming behind cage doors. His eyes snapped open and for a moment he was frozen, he could not lift his eyes from the floor, he could not bring himself to look at who was standing there. His whole body trembled, tendrils of terror escaping from their confines to wrap around his throat. He felt the grip on his hair tighten and as his hair was pulled and his head forced upwards it took everything left in him not to cry out as he saw who was standing there.

'You are here for _this_ I assume?' malice dripped from Aizen's voice. Ichigo's wide eyes swam with fevered emotion as they stared into the too familiar shaded grey pair that regarded the two of them with pained fury.

Ichigo spoke then, for the first time in a long time not waiting for permission to do so. His voice cracked with restrained emotion, joy and terror and hopelessness colliding as he whispered,

'…Kisuke?'

* * *

_A/N:_

_FINALLY it's Urahara time! Just what you've all been waiting for. (Well... at least it's what I have been waiting for :P)_  
_Oooh and i just couldn't resist putting some GrimmIchi in there :3 Grimmjow is just wonderful.  
_

_Hope you enjoyed, and reviews would be lovely :)_


	8. My Way Home Is Through You

**Chapter 8: My Way Home Is Through You**

'_Can't find my way home,  
but it's through you and I know,  
what I'll do,  
just to get back in your arms.'_

'…Kisuke?'

The pain evident in Ichigo's voice sent a flash of anger and pain ringing throughout the blonde's body. The unruffled mask of emotion that was always worn upon his face was slipping, the gritting of his teeth and clenching of his fists betraying the emotions which threatened to overflow within him.

'I'm here, Ichigo. I…' his voice cracked with rage and sorrow. 'I'm so sorry.'

Ichigo couldn't believe his eyes; he had learned not to rely on such untrustworthy senses since his encounter with Aizen's zanpakuto. But something told him that this was not an illusion, it was in the way which Aizen spoke; he sounded as though he was deliberately trying to hurt with his words, not at all as if he was talking to his own illusion. But the knowing of this fact came more from the rush that flooded his body, the joy and the fear that swirled in his insides and made his heart flutter until he felt sick to his stomach.

It was the warm comfort of the tendrils of reiatsu which surrounded the edge of his senses; it was the feelings that could never possibly be replicated. This man was no cheap imitation; he was the real man, the only one that he had ever loved.

It just seemed so illusory for him to be standing there, it was a scenario that Ichigo had dreamed about immeasurable times, but one that he had never expected to see come true. And indeed it was one that he never wanted to come true, for he knew that for Urahara to come here would be suicidal. Even he could not hope to stand against the forces of Las Noches and Ichigo knew that if he saw him killed in reality he would not be able to take it. The illusions broke him so far and what was left of him was terrified of what the actual thing would do.

But still, here he was and here was the reality of the situation. Ichigo felt tears sting in his eyes as he took in the sight of the person that he wanted to see more than anything yet dreaded to bear witness to here in this place.

'Have you come to reclaim your prize?' the lord sneered.

'He is not something which can be claimed, Sosuke. You never could comprehend that. I'm just here to take him home.' Urahara stood there, a dark shadow falling across his face cast from the brim of his hat. What Ichigo could see of his face was twisted in an emotion the like of which he had never before perceived gracing the surface of the shopkeeper. One of his hands curled tightly around the handle of his cane, and Ichigo saw that he was just itching to draw his sword and run Aizen through with it. But he knew better than to attempt that, and so the hand remained stationary, and the sword concealed.

Aizen smirked at the uncharacteristic display of such emotion from the man, and tightened his grip on Ichigo's hair, pulling his head back sharply. He cried out a little in pain, and the rage that flitted across Urahara's face at the sound of his cry made the lord smirk wider than ever.

'Stop that.' Urahara's voice was deadly quiet as it cut the tension which laced the room.

'I can do whatever I want to him.' Aizen mocked in reply, 'He belongs to me now.'

'Ichigo belongs to nobody, least of all you.' Anger flashed in grey eyes. 'Now release him.'

'You are too late.' The lord replied as pretended to oblige, releasing Ichigo from his grasp. The boy fell forward at the sudden loss of support, barely catching himself as his hands and knees met the icy floor. Urahara twitched, concentrating all his willpower on stopping himself from moving to Ichigo's aid as Aizen watched with barely concealed amusement, those eyes missing no such detail as cold calculation worked in his mind.

'Ichigo.' Urahara spoke again, his voice hushed and tender as though he were speaking to a frightened child. 'Get away from him Ichigo.' At the repetition of his name Ichigo twitched and stared, eyes wide and frightened with such a sense of loss that it was breaking the older man's heart. Aizen said nothing as he sat atop his throne, regarding the proceedings with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Ichigo felt as though his limbs were moving of their own accord as he forced his shaking legs to move. His heartbeat thundered in his chest until it felt as though his ribcage would crack, fear and elation fuelling the drumbeat of his circulation. He took a few hesitant steps forwards, swaying on unsteady legs as he moved.

'That's as far as you go, pet.' Ichigo's limbs froze along with the beat of his heart as Aizen spoke. 'Come to me.'

Ichigo froze; fear stuck his feet to the floor as he swayed on the spot between the two men, fear and a false sense of duty pulling him backwards as hope and redemption drew him forwards. A painful silence enveloped the cold room, breath stilling in the throats of the occupants as they waited for Ichigo to make his move. Giving into the fear, he turned back to Aizen. The second that it took for Ichigo's newly acquired instincts to kick in and draw him backwards to his master seemed to draw out into an eternity in the eyes of the blonde as disbelief and shock registered in his mind.

'Ichigo!' Urahara snapped, feeling instantly guilty as he saw shock and pain flicker through the boy's body. Ichigo started, stopping on the spot and turning his head swiftly to face Urahara. The feeling of guilt was forgotten as he stared into those deep brown eyes in which some sense of recognition and life had now exploded as he heard Urahara's panicked shout.

Ichigo had almost reached Aizen's throne when he stopped and as he turned back to face his teacher Aizen shot out his arm, faster than the eye could see or either man could perceive. He took a firm grip of Ichigo's upper arm, pulling him backwards till he was pressed up against the cold stone of the oversized chair, pulling him in and forcing him into an uncomfortable position upon his lap. Ichigo choked out a suppressed cry as he felt those strong arms link around his waist, holding him securely in the lap of his master and enemy.

'I wouldn't do that if I were you Kisuke.' Aizen smirked at the shopkeeper as he made to move, to rush forward and tear Ichigo away from the arms of the monster. He curled one cold hand around Ichigo's chin, dipping his fingers down to stroke the abused skin of his neck. 'There might be an accident.' He threatened, making clear that he would not hesitate to crush the soft flesh of Ichigo's windpipe.

Urahara's top lip curled in an expression of hatred and disgust, but he ceased his movement.

'What have you done to him Sosuke?' Sheer pain and fury replaced the usual playful shine of those grey eyes.

'It's a wonder what you can do with a little training…' Aizen smirked, trailing his fingers up and down the boy's neck, pressing at the lingering bruises as though to accentuate their presence. 'You of all people should know that, my old friend.'

'But… This… This is wrong.' Urahara spoke forcefully, his belief in his student unwavering. 'He is not so weak that you can bend him to your will in so little time.'

'Time?' the lord of Las Noches laughed softly as he spoke. 'You gave me more than enough _time _to play with him.' The arm that was looped around Ichigo's waist relaxed itself a little as Aizen shifted the boy upon his lap. The hand that was not preoccupied with caressing his neck moved from the crook of Ichigo's waist to rest upon his knee. The redhead barely flinched at the familiar contact, though the sight of such intimacy sent shockwaves of anger flitting across the face of the shopkeeper.

'Sosuke…' he warned, his voice low and laced with fury. Aizen chose to ignore him as his hand worked its way slowly but determinately up the substitute shinigami's leg. He continued speaking as though he had never been interrupted, leaning in to press his lips against the skin of Ichigo's neck.

'Enough time to discover the correct methods.' He sneered, his tongue darting out to taste the bruises he had painted on the skin. Ichigo squirmed a little in his grasp, his eyes trying desperately to avoid Urahara's gaze.

'You bastard…' Urahara spat, gritting his teeth. 'How is this possible…?' His brow furrowed as realisation set in, a fact or figure previously overlooked which now reared at the forefront of his brilliant mind. 'No…' horror contorted his features. '…The time difference.'

'Figured it out have you?' Aizen murmured. 'Just as time in the precipice world moves separately from time in the real world and soul society, here in my domain it is the same. Not as large a difference as with the passage between worlds you understand…' He chuckled softly as his hand lowered, moving downwards to draw a pattern upon the white cloth covering Ichigo's chest. 'But enough to tip time in my favour.'

'But it was only a matter of days…' Urahara muttered, his face darkening as he searched for his answer. 'How long?' he asked, turning his piercing gaze from Ichigo to Aizen.

'Excuse me?' Aizen feigned ignorance as his fingers brushed along the sensitive skin of Ichigo's collarbone, feeling the boy shiver upon his lap.

'How long has it been here? For him!' he snapped, his patience breaking. Aizen paused for a moment as if for effect before answering.

'Almost three months.' The remaining colour drained from Urahara's face and his legs gave way beneath him as he fell to his knees, looking as though the breath had been knocked from him by some unseen blow.

'Three… Three months…?' He was rendered almost breathless at the thought. 'Gods, I… I miscalculated, how could I have been so foolish!' Cursing himself he turned his gaze pleadingly towards the redhead in Aizen's lap. 'Ichigo…' His eyes shone as though tears were prickling behind them.

'And that is why you are not fit to control the hogyoku.' Aizen cut him off. 'That is why you cannot save him. Forget your worthless apologies, they no longer reach him.' Aizen ran his fingers through the orange hair, petting Ichigo like an animal helpless in his grasp. 'He's naught but my puppet now.'

'You're wrong!' the blonde almost growled as he raised his head, making as though to pull his sword free from the cane. It took only that slight movement for Aizen move into action, his reiatsu spiking instantaneously as he pushed the spiritual pressure down upon the shopkeeper.

'I grow weary of this…' he muttered as Urahara was pushed further down upon his knees.

'Ichigo!' he struggled to raise his head beneath the powerful tide pressing down upon him. 'You have to fight him!' Ichigo gave no reaction but to squeeze his eyes shut, as though trying to hide from the pain of the situation. 'You can't lose to him, not like this.'

Aizen ran his hand down from stroking Ichigo's hair to grasp one of his trembling hands in his own. He leaned in slowly to speak into the boy's ear.

'Kill him pet.' He commanded, speaking slowly and purposefully to make the words register in Ichigo's muddled mind. Hurt brown eyes widened and his mouth gaped, noiselessly mouthing what could have been an objection. Aizen pushed him gently from his lap, giving him no opportunity to refuse. From somewhere within his robes he withdrew a surgically white dagger, the hilt of which he pressed into Ichigo's hand. 'Kill him, Ichigo. Do this and it will all end. The suffering of you and your friends…' He touched his fingers gently to Ichigo's cheek and speaking softly he promised, 'I can make it all go away.'

Ichigo's brown eyes shone with restrained sadness as he turned back to the man kneeling on the ground. Urahara began to speak again, desperately trying to make his words get through to him.

'You swore didn't you! You swore to protect them!' Ichigo took another step, his trained body urging him forward while his conscious mind screamed for him to stop, to turn around and plunge the sharpened object into the man he hated rather than the man he loved.

'That's why you're here, to save Orihime, just like you saved Rukia… _Remember_ Ichigo!' But he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to stop. He had become completely accustomed to following Aizen's orders and now the words of the one he always used to listen to were failing to reach him. The air was cold. Colder than it had ever felt. Ichigo dropped to his knees in front of Urahara, leaving barely a foot between them.

'They need you Ichigo…' Grey eyes met coffee coloured brown and Urahara realised that Ichigo was crying silently, shining droplets tricking a way down his cheeks. The pressure of Aizen's reiatsu continued to push down on him but he fought against the invisible force with his own as he reached out his arm towards the boy. His fingers brushed Ichigo's cheek, and he flinched, the touch being identical to the last physical contact he had received from Aizen, but did not pull away.

'I…' Urahara refused to let the eye contact between them break as he hoped desperately that he could find some way to get through to his student, to find some way to bring him back to reality. '_I_ need you.'

'_I need you.'_

Ichigo blinked, those words echoing in his mind. Suddenly there was a flash of clarity in his eyes, a spark igniting in the dullness of his irises, chasing away the fog. He grabbed Urahara's arm with one hand as he released the knife with the other and let it fall to the stone ground with an unreasonably loud clatter. His lips twitched as though he were going to speak, but all of a sudden the pressure lifted from the room. In that instant Aizen moved from his seat atop the throne to Ichigo's side, grabbing him by the shoulder and pushing him away to the side.

'Pathetic.' Aizen spoke, glaring down at the redhead now sprawled upon the floor. 'I had hoped that you would've learned this by now, it is your bonds that make you weak.'

'How dare you?' Aizen turned back towards the sound of Urahara's voice to find a blade almost touching his neck. He stood now, sword unsheathed and pointed directly at Aizen's throat, eyes burning with fury. The lord of Las Noches sighed as he brushed his hair back from his eyes, a small smile curling at the corners of his lips.

'Must I do everything myself?' he sighed as Urahara pushed forward with his sword, meaning to drive it deep into the traitors throat. Faster than he could perceive, his blade was pushed backwards by Aizen's own, the two meeting with a sharp metallic clang. The force of the blow sent the shopkeeper flying backwards a little while the lord stood unruffled. Urahara frowned, he had hoped to avoid a direct confrontation like this, but the decoy was late and now there was no other option. He took up a defensive stance, waiting for Aizen to make the first move.

'You really think that you can defeat me?' Aizen questioned, the smug smile still upon his face. Urahara stood his ground, silence serving as his retort. 'I'm sure you are aware that, even if I chose not to utilize the abilities of my zanpakuto, you still could not hope to defeat me in physical combat alone?'

'Let's see shall we?' A falsely confident smirk tugged at Urahara's lips as he challenged the traitor.

'Indeed we shall.' Aizen moved, swinging his sword so quickly that the blonde was barely able to dodge. He jumped backwards again to escape the swinging blade, somehow managing to keep his footing on the polished floor. Aizen pressed onwards, cutting through the air again. This time his blade was blocked by Urahara's own, and he was the one forced backwards.

Urahara flash-stepped, trying to get behind Aizen before he could register the movement. He swung Benihime at Aizen's back but by the time the blade reached him he had already moved from Urahara's sight. He fell forward as he felt Aizen's sword graze his own back, cutting through green cloth and nicking his flesh. He turned to meet Aizen as he swung to land another hit, blades screaming against each other. Aizen lunged forward again, so quick that blocking was impossible. His aim was thrown off slightly though, and as Urahara moved to dodge the sword cut a glancing blow on his cheek instead of slicing through his neck as was the intention.

Ichigo watched the exchange from his position upon the floor with wide, horrified eyes. His mind was still reeling from the mere presence of Urahara and now terror was taking over as he realised that he was most likely about to bear witness to his death. This was the one thing that would well and truly break him, and as he watched Aizen land blow after blow upon his teacher he could feel the fearful panic bubbling up in his throat, spilling and overflowing in his mind, drowning out all thought and logic.

When he saw Aizen slice through the delicate flesh of Urahara's shoulder, the blade twisting in the wound and ripping the most dreadful cry from the blonde, the levee in his mind broke.

Pain spiked, the pressure in his head became immense, building and pushing around his mind and the red band circling his neck. The world of the throne room and the fight began to fade; Ichigo's vision was sucked away as the stark white of the palace walls and red of the spilt blood morphed into blues and blacks. Screaming, he screwed his eyes shut against the pain and clutched his head with both hands, pressing down on his temples, trying to alleviate the pressure. Reality fell away as the pain in Ichigo's head built to bursting point. Blood began to drip from his nose and it felt as though his mind was going to follow suit and flow streaming from his ears.

Then suddenly, the pain and the pressure stopped.

Ichigo's eyes snapped open and the world was different. He was upon a rooftop, and all he could see was blue. Gone were the duelling figures of Urahara and Aizen, replaced by lazy clouds floating sideways in the vast blue. He realised that he was looking at a daylight sky. It had been so long since he had seen anything other than the night that it took him a moment to adjust to this new wonder. But if he could see the sky then, where was he?

He was lying on his back, the ground hard and cold beneath him, but before he could move to sit up and take in his surroundings the breath was knocked out of him by a foot stamping down upon his stomach.

'Aah..!' he gasped, winded as the air was forced from his lungs. He blinked in pain and confusion as he recognised the figure that the foot belonged to, and at once realised where he had been taken. Above him loomed another Ichigo, this one with skin as pale as snow and eyes as black and soulless as a demon, as a _hollow._

'…You?' Ichigo spluttered as he pulled himself into a standing position. The lips of the hollow curled in disgust as he watched his king struggle to stand, the yellow eyes narrowing as it spoke.

'Tch. Told ya didn't I?' It spat. 'You give me the chance and I'll knock you down and crush your skull.' Ichigo was sent flying back to the floor as the creature punched him full on in the face. He hit the ground and winced, though the pain was less than he was expecting.

'You've become weak King. Allowed that bastard to control ya.' It knelt down beside him, gripping his bright hair in its pale fist. 'You're not fit to hold my power any longer.' His hollow self growled in anticipation as its lips curled into a brutal grin.

'And now, I'm taking back my throne.'

* * *

_A/N: Woah-oh! :o_

_I promise that the next update shall not take as long as this one did... Really it's been crazy busy this summer so i have barely had enough time / energy to write. I hope this one doesn't dissapoint.  
And as always, reviews would be perfect._


	9. Lights

**Chapter 9: Lights**

'_I had a way then, losing it all on my own  
I had a heart then, but the queen has been overthrown.  
And I'm not sleeping now, the dark is too hard to beat.  
And I'm not keeping now, the strength I need to push me._

_You show the lights that stop me turn to stone  
You shine it when I'm alone  
And so I tell myself that I'll be strong_

_'Cause they're calling, calling, calling me home.'_

'And now, I'm taking back my throne.'

Ichigo supressed a gasping cry as his pale parody growled a threat, the twisted face mere inches from his own. He would never get used to that face, a distorted mirror image of his own, hair and skin bleached white as bone, those sickly yellow irises floating in the dense blackness of his sclera.

'Yer weak!' it spat, 'Too weak!' the hollow tightened its grip, pulling on orange hairs as though it were trying to wrench them free from the scalp, reaching up to grasp Ichigo's neck with its other cold, white hand. 'Too weak to save that girl, too weak to save any of them... Too weak to help blondie out there.' It grinned at the pain that shone in ochre eyes at the mention of the shopkeeper, licking its lips as it spoke again, leaning in close to drive the knife in deeper. 'He'll die because of you.' It whispered in that harsh, rasping voice. 'Everyone you've ever loved will die because yer too busy cowering in Aizen's shadow.' The black nails dug into the soft flesh of Ichigo's windpipe as it began to tighten its grip.

'What's the matter Ichigo?' it taunted as he began to choke, his breath coming in shorter, harsher gasps as those freezing hands tightened around his throat. 'Yer pathetic.' It spat, dark eyes narrowing in disgust. 'How can it be that I've been bowing to such a weak king?'

Ichigo cried out, the world was turning black and fuzzy, the hollows frenzied grimace blurring as those terrible eyes looked desperately back at Ichigo, as though it were searching for something, waiting for some glimmer of resistance that the shinigami was yet to display.

The fear that gripped Ichigo's mind was all too common; the feeling of powerlessness was sickeningly familiar as he felt his consciousness slipping away. How could this happen? How could he allow the hollow to dispose of him so easily – he'd beaten him before, he'd turned the creature to dust and crushed the threat to his sanity, so how could this same creature overpower him now? How could he let it happen? How could he, whom had sworn upon his life to protect everyone, be so weak?

'N-no.' He choked, gritting his teeth against the blackness that was clouding the edges of his vision, against the helplessness that he was drowning in. 'I'm not…'

'What!' the hollow growled, squeezing tighter, pressing its strong thumbs into the hollow of his collarbone, pushing painfully against his windpipe.

'I'M NOT WEAK!' a strangled scream forced its way up from the abused throat, frustration and an almost forgotten pride building until it began to overwhelm the fear and pain.

Ichigo reached up and grasped the pale hands around his neck, a little surprised at the ease with which he was able to force them away. There was a sudden rush within his body, a warm sensation spilling from his neck and flowing down into his fingers and toes. It took him a moment to recognise that familiar feeling as the rush brought power to his trembling form. His reiatsu. The hollow laughed, its mocking voice a dry and broken cackle.

'Figured it out have ya?' It gestured to Ichigo's bruised neck with one long finger. 'Here there is no _collar_, no _physical_ limiter. Nothing holding you back but that disgusting fear.' Pale lips curled in a sneer as it questioned, 'Since when did ya ever let anybody control ya like that?'

'I… I won't.' Ichigo wheezed as he pulled himself to his feet, blood pumping hard as it shot through his body to the rhythm of his beating heart. 'I won't let him control me anymore.'

The hollow scoffed with a sense of barely disguised amusement.

'So what are you going to do?" it questioned, its cruel smile widening in anticipation.

'I'm going to fight!' Ichigo roared, the fire returning to his mind and body, 'I'm going to save Urahara. I won't let Aizen hold me down any longer… I won't let him defeat me. I'm going to stand up and fight again, and I'll destroy anyone who threatens my world...' He paused as he raised his head to lock eyes with the pale creature, predatory yellow clashing with rich brown irises which sparked with re-awakened determination and power, 'Starting with you.'

White lips twisted into a challenging smirk as the hollow reached out in front of him with his arms, and began to summon power into the palm of his hands. Forming in the grasp of the creatures pale fingers two identical objects began to materialise. The air around the albino shimmered with power as the objects took form, one light, one dark. Both Zangetsu. The very atmosphere seemed to shake as the daylight drained until the only light left seemed to be emanating from those shimmering swords, black and white colliding as the hollow roared,

'Then fight me!'

It lurched backwards as it thrust Ichigo's sword at him. He barely had time to move as the black Zangetsu came shooting towards him, sidestepping ever so slightly to avoid the blade flying past him and clutching his fingers tightly around the hilt, bringing the massive sword around in one swift movement to point at the creature in front of him. His own lips curled into a smirk to match his imitation, the muscles in his face twitching as they remembered how to smile.

'I thought you'd never ask.' He grinned almost manically at the hollow, and the creature shot back an ever more insane expression as it cackled to the open sky. Ichigo saw an opening and shot forward, kicking out against the building beneath him as he propelled himself towards the hollow. Metal screamed as their inverted swords collided, their faces once again mere inches from each other, the hollow grinning and still laughing that insane laugh.

The atmosphere had changed with the drawing of the swords, the sky darkened and heavy raindrops began to fall from clouds that slugged along through the tar-like sky. Ichigo felt the first few drops hit him and frowned, lowering his guard momentarily to glance upwards. He felt a familiar searing pain as the hollow pushed back against his sword and brought its own round to cut a glancing blow against his side. It snarled at him,

'Surprised Ichigo? You shouldn't be. It's been raining here every single day since you've been captive. It's pathetic.' Ichigo narrowed his eyes but said nothing, replying only by charging forward to clash swords with the hollow again. 'Not in a talkative mood anymore?' it taunted, 'Good, I'm sick of hearing you whine anyway.' It flash-stepped and in an instant was gone from Ichigo's sight in a blur of white. Instinctively he twisted around to meet the blow coming from behind him.

The sky began to rumble and crack, thunder shook the buildings beneath the battling figures as they danced in a duel. Swords clashed as thunder clapped and lightening split the sky to light the scene as they fought. The rain grew heavier and soon both the shinigami and the hollow were completely drenched by it. Water ran down Ichigo's face and into his eyes as he received blow after blow from the pale monster. Soon the rain ran red as it intermingled with his open wounds and fell from his body to be washed away in a river of down pouring water. Before long Ichigo was supporting himself on his sword with the blade dug into the ground. His opponent stood tall a mere few feet in front of him, the white zangetsu slung across its shoulders, white robes stained with blood, most of which Ichigo was sure was his own.

'Why don't you just give up?' it asked, its voice strangely free of its usual mocking tone. 'Look at you. You're pathetic. You're a disgrace. Why don't you just give in to me, to _him_?'

Ichigo's breath came in shorter and shorter gasps as he struggled to stand, his blood was flowing more freely now and he could feel his energy draining away once again.

'Because… I can't afford to give up.' He wheezed. 'Not now.'

'Why!' the hollow snapped, anger flashing in its eyes. 'Why are you so fucking relentless? Ichigo! Answer me!' White teeth flashed as the creature curled its lip. Ichigo sucked cold air into his lungs as his eyelids drooped close. His head was dizzy, his limbs ached but he could not stop now. And they both knew the reason why.

'Because I have to save him.'

Ichigo's eyes snapped open and even from where the hollow was standing it could see the silver light that had flooded the eyes of the shinigami, completely bleaching out the brown warmth of his irises. Using all the power he had left, Ichigo flew forwards, moving faster than the hollow could flash step. Before it could even begin to swing its sword downwards the hollow could tell that its attempt was in vain. Zangetsu slashed in a horizontal motion across the creature's body, tearing blood stained robes and white flesh all at once. The hollow fell to its knees, the white sword shattering as it made contact with the ground.

As soon as the fatal blow had been struck, deep black fissures splintered the sky all at once, the buildings started to crack and crumble beneath the two figures as the hollow himself dissolved and faded, his image twisting and cracking like a broken videotape.

'Tch… just like last time, eh king?' the hollow grinned weakly at the shinigami, its eyes still dancing with fury and insanity. 'Kill him.' It whispered, reaching up to grasp the neck of Ichigo's robes as its body disintegrated into the dark sky. 'Prove to me that you're still a king worth following…' The last part of the creature to fade was that awful smile, and Ichigo could still feel it like an imprint on his memory for a long time afterwards.

Suddenly he once again felt the swelling of a horrible pressure inside his body. It flowed through him like blood through his veins, spreading overwhelming heat right down to the tips of his fingers and toes. Ichigo let his eyelids slip shut as the pressure began to build in his head again, but this time he felt no pain. He exhaled, and as he did so the very time in the space of his inner world seemed to slow. There was a roaring in his ears like the muffled shouts of an angered crowd, like his soul which was bursting to be free.

At the edge of his hearing, just rising above the scream of his soul like an important whisper, he heard a voice. One that he recognised like an old friend,

_'I am with you, Ichigo.'_

And then, the noise stopped.

For a moment he was in limbo, suspended between two worlds. There was no sound, nothing for his skin to touch and even if he had opened his eyes there would have been nothing for him to see. Then his body trembled and his nerve endings lit on fire, his skin sizzling with the force of the power released within him.

Like a burst dam the reiatsu contained within his body for so long was set free all at once. The band around his neck shattered beneath the incredible force, and his eyes flew open instinctively as his senses returned. He felt a weight leaving his body as reiatsu outpoured into the room in one massive burst, excess energy escaping and burning up in the cold atmosphere, leaving destruction in its wake.

All at once he felt the coldness of the marble floor upon which he crouched, the pain of his wounds flared again but that didn't even register in his mind, cuts which caused him agony before now felt like the merest pin prick upon his skin. He could feel in his hand the familiar weight of an old friend who had passed through the void with him. The roaring noise was replaced with silence for a moment as the newly re-awakened shinigami took in his surroundings.

The throne room was all but destroyed, though how much of the damage had been caused by the reiatsu shockwave he could not tell. Black cracks splintered the once pristine walls, and fissures had opened in the floor and ceiling, scattering rubble and debris across the room. The ceiling, cracked and damaged, trembled above him as though it could collapse in at any moment, and increasingly large amounts of dust and stone trickled from the roof to envelop the room. He neither see nor feel no presence to suggest that he was not the only person present in the room. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry as dust as he raised a hand to sweep away the dirt cloud from the front of his face, his senses both confused and hypersensitive from the massive shock of reawakening. He blinked as he regarded his hand as though it was some unknown object; his very skin was buzzing and almost glowing with renewed power.

Something shifted at the corner of his senses suddenly, an attacker moving at an incredible speed, coming at him from behind. It took Ichigo a mere fraction of a second to react, twisting his body around so fast he almost stumbled as he tried to adjust to his rediscovered speed and power. He felt his hand contact with the skin of another, and as his muddled brain caught up with the reactions of his body, he realised that he was tightly gripping a pale wrist which had shot towards him with the intention to grasp him.

It was not just the firm and sudden grip on his wrist which startled Urahara enough to let out an audible gasp, but the sight of the orange haired boy in the first place was enough to knock the wind from his lungs. He had seen the boy collapse upon the floor, followed almost instantly by a massive outburst of spiritual power which had thrown both the shopkeeper and his opponent clear across the room. As he regained his senses he had lunged to take a pre-emptive strike on the massive pulsing and twisted source of power which in his confusion and the sheer volume of reiatsu present he had thought to have belonged to Aizen.

Now he saw the eyes of the shinigami fly wide open as he realised whom he was grasping so tightly. Those brown eyes were pulsing with a confused mixture of emotion, fear and joy and a strange power burning renewed behind those irises. Energy seemed to be shooting through every inch of Ichigo's body, the very colour of his hair seemed to have intensified, burning brighter as it stood up on end like the hackles of a startled animal. His skin was flushed, blood filled vessels painting his cheeks and lips an intense red to clash with the orange of his hair. His white robes were torn, the entire right arm ripped away, the hems tattered with deep gashes running along the dirtied material. Glowing with power, in that moment he was more intensely beautiful than Urahara had ever envisioned.

'Ichigo…' His voice was barely a whisper but to Ichigo it registered as the only noise in the room. As soon as he had seen blonde hair fill his vision his senses had narrowed in to focus only on the green clad man whose wrist he grasped. He blinked rapidly, fearing that at any moment the figure before him would disappear like one of Aizen's illusions. He tried to swallow the lump which had settled in his throat but found himself unable to. He opened his mouth but no words materialised.

They remained in limbo for only a mere fraction of a second, but to both men the time seemed to draw out into hours. Dust danced in the air, aglow with the light of the reiatsu which had been released into the atmosphere, burning up the cold air. Both choked on words which would not come, and instead settled for studying the others face as intently as though they were trying to distinguish reality from a dream.

'Well, isn't this just a touching scene?' a cold voice shattered the momentary spell which hung in the air. At the interruption Ichigo released the blonde's pale wrist as though he had received an electric shock, and they both spun to face the enemy. Urahara instinctively swept in front of Ichigo, sword drawn, ready to fight to the death to protect his student. Fear had already began to flood the mind of the vulnerable shinigami, the feeling of invincibility that came with the return of his powers faded like the flick of a lightswitch as his tormenter swept into view.

'Sosuke…' Urahara's voice was low and threatening now, his pale fingers turning white as they curled around Benihime's hilt. 'This has gone far enough, it ends now.' All trace of joviality had vanished from Aizen's voice as he confronted the shopkeeper.

'No, Kisuke. It's not gone _nearly_ far enough.' Malice glinted in the bottomless pits of his dark eyes. 'Did you really think that you could come in here, into my realm, and just take what is mine?' He sneered, a venomous sound that sounded frighteningly like the cackle of the hollow. 'What makes you think I'm going to let either of you leave here alive?'

'What makes you think you can stop me?' the ex-captain challenged, never breaking eye contact with the demented lord. Ichigo quivered behind his teacher, trying desperately to overcome the fear and horror that was beating in his veins. Aizen scowled, his patience wearing thin at the defiance that he was met with. His hand flew to draw his sword, and both men felt the terrible power that was about to be unleashed upon them.

'There's one more thing that you should probably know.' Urahara stopped the lord in his tracks as he spoke, this time more confident than ever before. 'I'm not like you Sosuke, because, I didn't come alone.'

Suddenly, a thundershock split the room, shaking the already unstable walls. Even bigger cracks began to open on the floor and explosions rang from the four corners of the palace. The ceiling collapsed in between them and in an instant Aizen was gone from their view.

Ichigo could not see through the dust and debris that enveloped the room, but when he felt a hand grasp his wrist and pull him away, he did not struggle against the tight grip. He could feel warmth emanating from the palm of the one who held him and knew that it was not the sickeningly familiar, icy grip of Aizen. Running blindly, he allowed himself to be pulled along by the hand gripping his own. He felt like he was moving faster than he had ever before, all of his power was pushed to his legs as they bolted through the white hallways of the palace. In an instant they escaped from the dirt cloud and, blinking the dust from his eyes, Ichigo could see the extent of the destruction that had been wreaked upon the once pristine building. He swallowed again and found that though his throat was clogged with dust he was once again able to speak.

'W-what was that?' he stammered in confusion as they ran, looking around as though the cause of the explosion would make itself known to him.

'I'll explain later.' The soft voice of his teacher floated back to him, instantly putting him slightly more at ease. 'Right now we just have to get out of here.'

'Wait!' Ichigo almost shouted as an important fact crossed his mind. 'Orihime! We can't leave her!' He almost stopped mid run as the horror of leaving her presented itself as a possibility.

'Ichigo!' Urahara spun around to face him, planting his hands on the shaking boy's shoulders. 'She's being taken care of. We're going to get both of you out of here, but only if we go _right now_.' He spoke as though he were addressing a child, taking care not to frighten Ichigo in his already fragile state. 'Just, trust me, Ichigo. Please.' His grey eyes pleaded with the redhead, willing him to get a hold of himself. Ichigo bit his lip, suddenly ashamed that he had doubted his teacher even for a moment. He nodded, his face pale and drawn with worry and streaked with blood and dirt. Nodding back at him, the blonde turned and the two men continued on their journey through the foreboding hallways.

The sounds of fighting and further explosions rang out from all sides, and Ichigo wondered why Aizen had not yet caught up with him. Panic pushed in around his senses but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Urahara had told him to trust him, and though it felt like he could never fully trust another soul again, he was the one person that he knew he could always count on. So he surrendered his body to the flight along bleached floors as they ran for their lives.

It felt as though they had run for miles, and perhaps they had, when Urahara came to stop at what seemed to be a dead end. Panic signals once again began to spark in Ichigo's nerves, but he forced himself to be still and silent as the blonde traced his fingers over invisible markings in the wall. Whatever he was doing, he seemed to be doing it painfully slowly and Ichigo was sure that at any moment Aizen would come swooping up behind him, pulling him back to hell to torment him until he became as insane as his hollow.

'Here.' Urahara tapped the wall with his long fingers and took a step back, 'Stand back Ichigo.' He commanded as he summoned reiatsu into the tips of his fingers. The shinigami barely had time to move before Urahara released his power into the thick stone wall, shattering it into a million pieces beneath his fingers. They fled through the gap in the open wall, out onto the gritty sand of the desert. As soon as Ichigo felt his foot sink into the sand his heart jumped into his chest. They had done it. They had really done it. They had escaped from Las Noches.

'We're not out of the woods yet.' Urahara murmured, his eyes darting from side to side as though he could not quite believe that they had managed to emerge unchallenged. 'Stay close to me Ichigo, and run like you never have before.' They sped off again across the desert, fuelled by one objective only – escape.

'We're almost there!' Urahara cried, looking ahead as though he could see something which Ichigo could not. Those words struck a chord deep within the frightened boy, and tears of joy and fear and repressed emotion began to leak silently from his eyes. Then, just as they were about to reach their unseen goal, Ichigo felt himself pushed to the ground as Urahara came to an abrupt stop. They were travelling at such a speed that when he hit the ground the air was knocked from his lungs and he struggled to pull himself upright again. As he tried to force himself into a standing position he felt himself pushed down again by his teacher. Confused, he rubbed sand from his eyes and blinked up at the scene before him.

Urahara stood tall, green robes dirty and tattered, striped hat gone somewhere in the scramble to escape, face drawn and tired. He was looking more the worse for wear now, the battle with Aizen had certainly taken his toll and he was bleeding from open wounds on his arms and sides. He had drawn Benihime once more, and stood facing a new opponent.

The 4th espada.

'So, it's you eh?' Urahara managed a tired smile. 'I was expecting someone of a higher rank.'

'My power is sufficient to deal with trash like you.' Ulquiorra responded, showing no sign on his impassive face that he was effected by the remark. He stood straight-backed and tall, white clothes pristine, the blankness of his face interrupted only by the teal tear tracks running down his cheeks. His zanpakutō remained sheathed at his hip.

'You can't defeat me.' The shopkeeper stood his ground, towering over Ichigo in a protective stance.

'I don't need to,' the cold reply came in that same emotionless tone. 'I just need to keep you here until Aizen-sama arrives.'

Urahara cursed silently. The arrancar was right, they were running out of time and soon Aizen would be upon them. And then there would be no escape. Ichigo slumped on the ground, feeling exhaustion set in. The massive outpouring of power had drained his reiatsu almost to the brink of his consciousness and he once again felt utterly powerless, lying there while the man he loved fought to protect him. It was all backwards, since when did he become the one needed protected? The hollow was right, he really was pathetic.

'I won't let you.' The ex-captain grit his teeth and kept his blade trained on the enemy as he turned his head to look at the shinigami on the ground. 'Ichigo.' his voice was a steady whisper now, 'Keep down and cover your eyes and ears. Do not look up or move until I say so. Understand?' Ichigo swallowed hard and nodded his head ever so slightly in response.

'It is useless…' Ulquiorra sighed a little as he spoke, cocking his head in anticipation of his opponent's next move.

The last thing Ichigo saw before he complied and threw his head down, squeezing his eyes shut tight, was Urahara raising his blade into the air above his head, knuckles white and determination burning in his eyes.

The last thing he heard before white noise eclipsed him and stole away with him into the blackness of unconsciousness was the steady voice of the man he loved as he played his final card.

'…Bankai.'

* * *

_MASSIVE AUTHORS NOTE (PLEASE READ):_

First_ of all guys, I want to issue a massive apology for the lateness of this chapter. I haven't done any fic writing in about 6 months now for various reasons (uni work, broken laptop, ridiculous student social life, etc etc.) So here it is – I'M SO SORRY._

_I do plan to start trying to update both this fic and my other two ongoing ones (_'Love's Labour's'_ and _'You Know Where To Find Me'_, just in case you're interested) more regularly now. It doesn't mean that I'll be firing out updates every single week, but I shall try my best. So bear with me, come summer I'll have a lot more time for writing so just hang on for now. I promise I will not give up on any of them._

Secondly,_ I'm thinking about getting a beta reader for this and possibly my other fics, as upon re-reading of old chapters I've noticed some shocking grammatical errors and outright plot holes. If you're interested in helping me with this then fire me a message about it._

And finally_, you guys are amazing. Even when I haven't updated in 6 months I'm still getting favourites, subscriptions and reviews expressing interest. Thanks so much for your continued support, and believe me, reviews aren't just there to feed my ego, they help give me the kick up the backside I need to get writing again. So thank you for that._

_Watch this space – I shall try my hardest to update ASAP. _

_Thanks for reading and as always, I would love to hear what you thought of this (especially as I have a feeling my writing skills may have rusted over this abstinence.)_

_- Katrinea_


	10. Here Is Gone

**Chapter 10: Here is Gone**

'_I'm not the one who broke you  
I'm not the one you should fear  
I can feel you falling_  
_And I wanted to be_  
_All you need_  
_Somehow here is gone.'_

'…_Bankai.'_

Voices flittered in around the edges of Ichigo's consciousness, whispering like fading ghosts in the wind.

'_As soon as I felt your bankai I knew something had gone wrong… Thank goodness you were able to get him out of there alive.' _

He was afloat in a sea of darkness, and he could see no horizon. Just the endless swirls and snatches of sound, voices of people so close to him yet so far away.

'_It was dangerous, but I had no other option…'_

Eyelashes fluttered as the voices became clearer, breaking through the walls of unconsciousness.

'_Ichigo...'_

Brown eyes snapped open to meet with strangely unfamiliar surroundings. Everything was blurred and out of focus, and something was wrong with the atmosphere. The walls and the rooftops weren't white. The light flooding the room was neither artificial nor moonlight. It was warm, and the familiar smell of death was replaced by something else, something comforting, something _alive_. And there was sound, sounds of humans, sounds of friends. It felt like a dream but at the same time more real than anything he had ever experienced.

Consciousness flickered in and out with the muddled flutter of eyelashes. The strange world slowly slipped into focus around Ichigo, and the more of it he could see, the more familiar it became. It took him too long to realise exactly where he was, it felt like he had awoke in a dream world where everything was familiar but yet he was unable to place it, and it was only after he had forced himself to sit up, rubbing his eyes to bring the world into focus, that he realised where he was.

He was back in Karakura. Back in the real world, the _human _world.

He swallowed hard. A lump had risen in his throat like an immoveable blockade, and suddenly it was difficult to breathe. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and turned to great gasping sobs as realisation set in.

He was in the Urahara Shoten.

For a moment the only sound in the world was Ichigo's breathless tears of relief and he wept; for himself, for his friends, for everything that he had suffered and for the intense joy that he thought he'd never be able to feel again.

He was home.

The noises of voices in the hallway stopped, and reality broke into his emotional bubble with the soft scrape of the door panel opening. He looked up from his tear soaked trance and saw standing before him, hatless and looking a little the worst for wear, Kisuke Urahara.

A sudden and an almost painful rush of emotion, the like of which hadn't been thumping through his veins in as long as he could remember, overcame him. All of a sudden he could feel again. His emotions had been strangled in the grip of the torture and in the frenzied flight of escape he was fuelled purely by adrenaline, but now the emotional roadblock had cleared and all the repressed fear, agony, love and relief poured through his system. His vision was lost in a flood of tears, and the feeling of strong arms encircling him made his tears flow harder than ever. The dam of emotion burst and overflowed within him as Urahara rocked the broken boy like a child in his arms. He held the shuddering body close to his own, breathing in his scent like raw emotion coming off the boy.

Urahara sat on the bed with him, holding the shattered teenager in his arms, running his pale fingers through orange strands matted from lack of care. Ichigo screwed his eyes shut as he buried his face in the crook of the older man's neck and dampened the cloth of his green shirt with painful tears. They stayed that way until the sobs subsided, the older man providing a silent comfort for the boy who'd emerged from hell.

'Is this a dream?' The redhead sounded so small, so broken, so unlike Ichigo that Urahara felt his heart contract in his chest even as he held him.

'No Ichigo. You're safe now.' Warm hands ran over the shivering body, rubbing soothing patterns over aching muscles. The boy was a wreck. In that moment in the throne room when he watched the boy break free from Aizen's hold he thought that perhaps all was not lost, that Ichigo was still there. But it was a mere shadow of the vibrant teen that he held in his arms now, he had lost so much of himself to that place.

He had lost weight, the boy had always been slim but now he seemed almost emaciated. He was so pale, his sun kissed skin seemed to have withered away in the endless moonlight and its flawless beauty was now stained by bruises, cuts and new scars. Urahara didn't even want to imagine the unseen damage that had been banished from his body by Orihime. Even the boy's hair seemed to have lost its vibrancy; it was dull and matted with neglect. But worst of all was his eyes. When they parted from the embrace and his own grey irises met with those once shining brown orbs he was deeply shocked by how lifeless they had become.

'Orihime… Is she alright?' Ichigo whispered, his face marked with fearful anticipation. Urahara smiled, a warm expression which crept into his heart and calmed his fears.

'Yes. She's safe and sound with us now. Desperate to see you, but of course so is everyone else.' Something stirred in those dead eyes and set off sparks of hope in the older man's heart. He was not completely lost. He was damaged, and he was hurting beyond comprehension, but if there was one thing that Urahara was good at it was fixing things. Ichigo was still there, still hiding behind dead eyes and his soul could still be saved.

'Ichigo…' he reached out a hand to touch the abused face, moving slowly as not to startle the boy. He ran his long fingers gently along the bruised skin of his cheekbone and stroked softly along the curve of his jaw. 'I'm glad that you're back.'

Ichigo let his eyes slip shut as he relaxed into the touch. The feeling of being touched so gentle and lovingly was by this point completely surreal to him, he felt tears well up again in his eyes but blinked them away. He had suffered through so much but he was still alive and so left with no other option but to live through the pain as he had always done. He was home; he could see his friends and his family again. He was weak; both body and soul were damaged but he had always found a way to get stronger, it was all he knew how to do. Even then, seeking comfort for a wounded heart in the arms of his saviour he made a silent vow. He would pull himself from the wreck and rise again from the ashes. He would emerge whole once again… but for now all he could do was surrender himself to the warm arms that held him so close to a warm body. Weariness dragged in at the corners of his senses but he knew he could not rest yet, not when so many questions remained unanswered. He opened his eyes.

'What happened?' He croaked, his throat still choked with emotion. Urahara relaxed his grip upon the trembling boy to allow him to draw back and compose himself. Startlingly grey eyes never left those of Ichigo as Urahara spoke.

'How much do you remember?' His voice and demeanour were soft and gentle as he questioned the fragile boy.

'I remember… Running, we were running down an endless corridor. And we broke through the wall, we escaped. But he was there, Ulquiorra. And you told me to stay down. I heard you speak, then… darkness. Just darkness.' Ichigo swallowed a lump that had risen again in his throat. 'And I woke up here.'

'That's right.' Urahara nodded slightly. 'We were confronted by the fourth espada. I knew that I didn't have time to fight half-heartedly, so I had to use my bankai.' He placed a hand on Ichigo's shoulder in a comforting gesture and looked deep into his eyes. 'I'm glad that you weren't hurt by it.'

'But what was it…?' No matter how he tried, Ichigo could not recall anything about the mysterious man's bankai. His memory was shrouded in darkness and he wondered if perhaps he really wanted to know what had happened.

'It's difficult to explain exactly, perhaps one day you will be able to understand… But for now just know that it gave me the chance I needed to get you out of there.' If there was one thing that Ichigo didn't need to know about him right it was the intimate details of his dangerous power.

'But how did we escape?' Ichigo's eyes shone with frustrated confusion and curiosity. 'What was that explosion? And why didn't Aizen come after us? I don't understand…'

'Yoruichi.' Urahara cut him off mid-sentence. 'She was waiting for us at a concealed garganta that we used to pass in and out of Las Noches. She was our line of defence and if not for her I never would've been able to get you out.' He paused to let this information sink into Ichigo's muddled brain before continuing. 'The explosion that you felt in the throne room was a decoy that we had arranged, though it was slightly late arriving. Renji…' This time it was Ichigo's turn to cut him off.

'Wait a minute, Renji was there?' Urahara saw Ichigo's eyes widen in surprise and fear at this thought.

'Yes… And Rukia. Chad and Ishida too and, believe it or not, Yoruichi managed to convince that poisonous wasp Soifon to help as well.' Urahara instantly felt a small sense of guilt at the look which crossed the face of the shinigami at this admission.

'How could you let them get involved in this, especially after what happened last time!' Ichigo felt his insides turn cold with fear, he'd caused his friends to risk their lives for him in a dangerous and unnecessary manner, and he immediately felt sick to his stomach at the thought of what could have happened to any of them.

'I could hardly keep them out.' Urahara smiled. 'Especially Rukia and Renji, the two of them were ready to storm the palace and rescue you themselves. But don't worry so much; everyone came back safe and intact.' _Everyone except you._ Urahara bit his lip at the thought which crossed his mind then as he received a weak smile from the redheaded boy who looked so small and fragile that he could just fall apart then and there. Receiving no other response from Ichigo he continued his narrative.

'As I was saying, Renji and the others infiltrated Las Noches at a different point than I. While I was sent to confront Aizen…' He could've slapped himself for mentioning Aizen's name, the look of sudden fear that contorted Ichigo's features at the mere mention of his name sparked anger and hatred for the man deep inside of Urahara and he had to bite his tongue before continuing. 'Their objective was to retrieve Orihime. I've been working on a new combination of cloaking devices which certainly proved effective in allowing them to move undetected within the palace, but I also used the strength of my own reiatsu to cover their presence. Of course this made me a walking target but that was the desired effect. Once the others had Orihime they were to set off the explosion to provide a moment of cover for us, and to signal the retreat. The explosion was another of my little experiments… It was designed to send out a burst of energy to scramble Aizen's reiatsu and give us a moment to escape. Although I don't know how well it would have worked if not for that massive outpouring from you…' He paused here as he neared the end of his story, and now he had some questions of his own. 'What happened there Ichigo?'

'My hollow…' Ichigo spoke slowly, as though he was still trying to digest the information from Urahara before he was able to answer the question put to him. 'He challenged me for control again. By winning against him I somehow got the power to break free. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what happened.' He looked apologetically back at his teacher and they both regarded each other for a moment, both minds ticking over with the processing of new information.

'Well…' Urahara spoke after a moment. 'It looks like that creature is more useful that we thought.' Ichigo tried to smile but his eyes were clouding over with confusion once again.

'I still don't understand…' He sighed, turning muddled eyes to meet with his teacher's. 'What happened when you fought Ulquiorra?' He saw the hesitation in Urahara's eyes. 'I'm not a child Kisuke, don't keep me in the dark.' He stared mournfully at Urahara, and the blonde stared back at him, caught between answering his question and keeping him from hearing further harsh truths.

However, at that moment he was saved from answering by a knock on the door, and a soft creak as it slid open. Startled eyes flicked to the person who entered the room, and Urahara could feel Ichigo tensing up even as he sat beside him on the bed. A woman with skin the colour of burnt umber and flowing plum tinted hair entered the room, and he felt the shinigami relax somewhat at the familiar figure, but he could tell even without looking at him that he still wore a tense and distressed expression upon his face.

'Ichigo…' She smiled at him. 'It's good to see you awake finally.' Ichigo furrowed his eyebrows a little in confusion and looked as though he was going to ask a question before he was cut off by the cat woman. 'Everyone is here, waiting to see you.' Her voice was uncharacteristically soft and gentle, and the image of his friends threatened to bring tears to Ichigo's eyes once more. But again he choked them down.

'I want to see them.' He turned to Urahara with pleading eyes. 'I have to make sure they're all okay.' Urahara's eyes flicked to Yoruichi for confirmation before he turned back to Ichigo with a soft smile.

'Of course.' Yoruichi nodded as she turned and stepped back into the hall, gesturing down the corridor at the group of people who huddled apprehensively as they waited. The door slid open fully and Ichigo felt his heart jump in his chest at the sight which awaited him.

Standing in the doorway was a group of people whom he'd imagined that he'd never see again. It only took a moment for them to all pile into the room, and when he felt the soft arms of Orihime flung around his neck it was all he could do to stop tears rising in his eyes once again. She grasped him tightly, waterworks flowing freely from her own eyes as she cried a muddled assortment of apologies and thanks. He returned her embrace, hardly daring to believe that it was really her that was holding him so tight, the last time he had seen those eyes they had been drained and devoid of life, he had seen her blood staining the carpet but here she was, and she was just so _alive._

'Hey careful you don't suffocate him there Orihime.' Playful laugher came from another familiar voice. 'We just got him back after all.' He looked up from the embrace to see Rukia smiling back at him, her own eyes shining with tears of happiness which she quickly brushed away with the back of her hand. Orihime reluctantly released him from her grasp, and he was immediately smothered again in the embrace of his dearest friend.

'I'm sorry Ichigo, I'm so so sorry.' Rukia buried her face in the crook of his neck as she murmured her own apology. 'If it wasn't for me you'd never have gotten into this whole mess in the first place.'

'And if it wasn't for you, my family and I would be dead Rukia.' Her words pained him, she had given him everything that was important to him and no pain that he suffered as a consequence would ever compare to that. 'You have nothing to apologise for, it's my own fault.'

'Yeah, don't waste your apologises on this guy.' The good natured voice of the boisterous redhead cut through the heavy atmosphere in the room, and as Rukia released him he was confronted with the tattooed figure of Renji. He regarded Ichigo with his usual stupid grin plastered on his face, and patted him roughly on the shoulder in what he thought was a manly gesture. Ichigo winced a little at the touch and Renji drew back, unsure of what to do next.

He didn't have to think too hard though, as he was quickly shoved aside by Rukia to allow Chad to approach. Ichigo shot him a weak grin, and Chad returned it with a heavy heart. He was used to seeing his quick tempered friend in all sorts of terrible states, but this was somehow worse than any other time. Even though his physical wounds did not appear as bad as from previous encounters, his quiet friend could tell that something had deeply affected the substitute shinigami, and it had made him different somehow, for now he in some way seemed less like the Ichigo he knew so well.

A silence hung in the room as the two old friends stared at each other in a quiet gesture of understanding. The sunlight began to intensify as it crept in through the window blinds, causing the atmosphere to become warm and hazy as the reunion unfolded.

'Aren't you going to say anything Ishida?' Renji shoved the blue haired quincy forward from where he stood at the back of the room. Ishida scoffed at the redhead as he adjusted his glasses, trying to think of an appropriately sarcastic way to respond to him.

'Good to see you're back with us Kurosaki. Frankly I was getting bored without having your ass to kick up and down the training grounds.' Ichigo made a face at him.

'I missed you too Ishida.' The quincy scoffed as he took a step back into the group, trying not to show how guilty he had felt at leaving Ichigo in that terrible place while he had so shamefully escaped.

Ichigo smiled wearily at his friends, the intense feelings of fear and misery being replaced with warmth and even a slight sense of contentment. But as everyone rejoiced in the happy reunion he couldn't help but wonder what they would all think of him if they knew the truth of what had happened. If they knew what that man had done to him, the ways in which he had been violated, body and soul, and how had been so broken, so fucked up that he could do nothing but blindly follow the orders of the sadistic demon who tortured and raped him, well he didn't think that he'd be able to take it. How could he swear to protect them when he couldn't even protect himself?

'Are you alright?' He was snapped from his thoughts by Urahara placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned weary eyes to meet with his, brown eyes framed with dark circles, a drowsy look upon his face. Urahara smiled at him and turned to address the group.

'Okay everyone, Ichigo needs to get some rest.' He commanded with the air of an experienced teacher. Rukia nodded, her eyes never leaving Ichigo as she spoke.

'Of course. We'll leave you in peace now.' She smiled at him and Ichigo felt a sudden dread, if they left would he see them all again?

'No.' He yawned even as he tried to protest. 'Stay.'

'Ichigo, you need rest.' She berated him as she had so many times before. 'You look like hell, so just listen to Urahara and get some sleep.' Ichigo opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off. 'No buts.'

'Alright…' Ichigo knew better than to argue with the small shinigami so he smiled and spoke from his heart to all of his friends. 'Thank you guys, not just for rescuing me… If it wasn't for all of you then I don't think I would've made it.'

'Yer welcome.' Renji smirked. 'Just get some rest okay? You've made us all worry enough.'

'Yeah… Okay.' Ichigo yawned again as he watched his friends leave, his heart feeling suddenly overwhelmed and heavy.

They filtered from the room, waving and smiling goodbyes at their friend as they left, until he was alone with Urahara once more.

'Kisuke…' He struggled to stay awake as his eyelids grew heavy. 'Where are my family? Do they know what happened?'

'Just rest Ichigo.' Urahara commanded. 'They know that you're safe now and you'll be able to see them when you wake up, and that's all that matters. So just sleep.' He rose from his seated position on the bed as Ichigo lay down and nestled his orange head in his pillows.

'I'm scared Kisuke.' He admitted. 'Every time I close my eyes I have these terrible thoughts… I can't dream anymore, cause when I try to sleep all I have are nightmares.' His eyelids drooped as he murmured his confession. Urahara felt such a terrible sense of pain and empathy for the boy that had put on such a brave face for his friends, but now his façade was cracking and he couldn't just sit back and watch him become overwhelmed by pain. He sat back down on the bed beside him, placing a hand upon his head to gently stroke through the bright hair.

'I'm here with you, okay?' he whispered to the wrecked boy. 'I'll protect you, so don't be afraid. I swear I'll look after you.'

'Thank you Kisuke.' Ichigo murmured softly as sleep stole away with him once again.

Urahara remained that way as he felt Ichigo's breathing level out to a calm pattern of sleep. He felt the boy shift upon the bed after a while, his breathing hitching and eyes squeezing shut against some unknown night terror. The blonde brought his lips to press softly against his ear as he whispered comforts and stroked through his hair to calm him.

And as the warm light faded from the room he remained that way upon the bed, determined to keep Ichigo safe through this difficult night, and through every horror that life may throw at him thereafter.

* * *

_A/N: Just a quick update to let you guys know that there probably won't be another post from me until the end of the month, cause unfortunately its exam time now :/ though i have got a couple of one shots to finish off, there probably won't be an update on either this or 'Love's Labours' for a while. Just bear with me and i'll make sure that you get a nice long chapter next time (unlike this one)._

_Thanks for reading, and as always, reviews would be much appreciated :)  
_


	11. Easy Silence

**Chapter 11: Easy Silence**

_I come to find a refuge in the  
Easy silence that you make for me  
It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me  
And the peaceful quiet you create for me  
And the way you keep the world at bay for me_

_I've got all the world to lose  
But I just want to hold on to the  
Easy silence that you make for me_

Teeth clenched around sensitive earlobes.  
Nails cut dark grooves into skin already deeply marked by scars.  
A moist tongue marked out its territory upon the trembling body.

'_No…'_

Teeth bit into bleeding lips to stifle screams.  
Nails dug into the rough palms of his hands to extinguish the moans.  
A moist tongue contorted as he choked out desperate, half-smothered cries.

'_Enjoying yourself pet?'_

His scalp ached from having his hair pulled and twisted.  
His skin was slashed and mottled with blood and bruises.  
His vibrant hair was matted with darkening blood, dripping down upon skin paled by moonlight.

'_No… Please…'_

His head was thrown back as his chin was grasped by cold hands.  
His wrists were bruised bloody from the bonds that encircled them.  
His breathing became difficult as the body pressed down on him, drenching him in sweat and panic and fear.

'_You will submit to me, Ichigo…'_

His dry and raw throat was ripped by screams, and the pain of his hallucination was so acute, so physical that he didn't even realise he was dreaming and screaming until the strong arms grasping his shoulders began shaking him back to reality.

'Ichigo! Ichigo wake up!' a familiar voice penetrated the veil between reality and imaginings. But in the dark fog of his nightmare, his master gripped him tightly and hissed.

'_One way or another… You will be __**mine**__.'_

As the young boy screamed in the arms of his saviour, miles and planes of reality away the face of the Lord of Las Noches cracked in a smile as cold and cruel as ice.

* * *

'Why did you let them escape?' the sharp voice of the silver fox cut through the omnipresent evening that shrouded the room in gloom. From his perch upon the throne Aizen regarded him with composed eyes.

'This will be the final breaking point, when I reclaim him.' He sounded almost gleeful, or at least as gleeful as Aizen Sosuke even sounded. 'This way he will know that he cannot escape, that I can crush him and his beloved world at any time I please.'

In one swift movement he left his seat to cross the room and grasp Gin's thin white wrist in his hand. 'Besides…' he murmured as he stroked the inside of the fox's wrist with his thumb. 'Isn't it more fun this way?'

Gin smiled, but he didn't need to open his eyes for Aizen to know that they were filled with a cold kind of playfulness.

'Yer like a kitty playing with a mouse Sosuke." He warned, his voice low and heady. 'Jus be careful that it doesn't slip through yer fingers.'

'He is already caught in my trap Gin.' Aizen assured his lieutenant. 'He just hasn't yet realised how futile his struggle is. I will teach him that, I will rip his wounds wide open again and this time he will not recover.' Gin's eyes slipped open momentarily with a hiss as pressure was applied to his thin wrist.

And in the dark light of the palace, even he was scared by the intensity of his Lord's stare, and the painful weight pressing down in around him as reiatsu filled the room.

* * *

In the spare bedroom of the Urahara Shoten, the shopkeeper held a trembling redhead in his arms. He had awoken with a start in the middle of the night, and even before he heard the screams coming from across the hall he knew that Ichigo was in pain. His reiatsu swirled around the bedroom, leaking into the hallway and creeping under the sliding doors of the other rooms. He had felt it before the others in the building, being as perceptive as he was, and had stumbled out of bed through the pain and distress that was trying to envelop his shop, after it had already laid claim to his student.

The screams didn't start until he entered the room. As if his presence had set something off inside the boy, the muffled cries and moans turned swiftly to screams of pain and agony. He ran to the boy's bedside, gripping his shoulders to try and shake him from his nightmare.

This wasn't the first night that he'd been roused from his sleep by a bad dream creeping across the hallway. It had been almost two weeks since Ichigo's return and though there would be no lasting physical injury (thanks to Orihime's tireless work) the emotional damage that he had suffered had not even begun to be repaired.

He pulled the shaking body close to his chest, dragging Ichigo onto his lap and shuddered a little himself as he remember the same way that Aizen had forced Ichigo into a similar embrace as he sat on his throne.

_Never again. I'll never let him do anything like that again._

Urahara let his eyes slip shut as he soothed the broken shinigami in his arms, feeling his tears drip down and fall upon his exposed chest where his haori fell open, and he felt the sick bile rise in his throat as he once again remembered the physical examination that he had performed on the boy on the eve of his return. Ichigo had just sat there on the examining table, his beautiful brown eyes wide and painfully blank as they stared at nothing in particular. Urahara knew those eyes; they were the eyes of someone who had seen too much. The boy had been to hell and back, and in that place he had lost an important part of himself.

He was jittery, that was to be expected. Whenever he was touched he jumped and his whole body would tremble. Urahara could not even begin to image the kind of pain he'd been put through, trapped in that place as the plaything of Aizen and the silver fox with his knife collection. But then there was the way Aizen had acted in the throne room, when he held the boy upon his lap and petted him like a lover. He grit his teeth against the image, against the possibility that he had been trying to ignore ever since that moment. He'd never really believed that Aizen would actually get his hands dirty in such a manner, but then again there had been a time when he trusted the man as a colleague and friend, and look how that had turned out. Still the possibility of what he could have done to Ichigo plagued him, he saw it in the wrists bruised by the tight grip of long fingers, the way he jumped at sudden movements and even the softest of touches, the haunting look that he wore upon his face and those eyes, _oh God those terrible eyes_, once so bright and full of life and now so _dead, _so drained that they were painful to regard.

He had started slowly, along with Tessai, they begun by examining Ichigo's head, face and neck, Urahara tenderly working his way down over his chest, pressing gently to check for broken bones and damaged organs. His long fingers skimmed over the fresh scars that slashed across his once beautiful skin, just one of the ways that Aizen had left his mark upon the boy. He bandaged a sprained wrist and cleaned various scrapes and bruises, Ichigo allowing himself to be handled without a word of complaint, lying limp in Tessai's arms like a rag doll while Urahara tended to his wounds. He skimmed over the bite marks upon his body and neck, dismissing them as battle wounds when in the back of his mind he knew fine well what they were, and how he must have received them. The bruises covering him that were ringed by teeth marks, he couldn't even bring himself to look at.

But it wasn't until he worked his way further down that his heart sunk like the Titanic, that the voice in the back of his mind screamed at him to stop denying what had happened, _what he had allowed to happen_, to Ichigo in that place. It was when he saw the bruises left by fingers on his hips, legs and buttocks, when he saw the dried blood still on his thighs and the scratch marks on his back that he asked Tessai to leave. He had never felt so useless, he almost wanted to break down and cry. This was his fault; he never should have sent Ichigo in there so unprepared for the monster that was Aizen Sosuke. The wind was knocked from his lungs and for a moment all he could do was to sit there with the boy, his pale hand grasped in his own.

'Ichigo…' he choked, the words catching in his throat. To ask what had happened, to probe at those terrible wounds… He didn't know how Ichigo would react. But he knew, even deep down inside he knew that he had to ask, he had to know and Ichigo had to tell. If he kept it bottled up inside it would end up killing him. He cleared his throat,

'Ichigo.' Words forced their way out, grating against his oesophagus like sandpaper. 'What did he do to you?' Ichigo would not look at him, his eyes fixed on the floor, filled with that terrible vacant expression, but the hand that he held convulsed, gripping tightly around his own.

They remained that way, motionless, silent, until the gasping breaths that Ichigo took turned to low murmurs, the reply catching in his throat just as the question had stuck in Urahara's.

'I couldn't…' He shuddered. 'Kisuke…' Those terrible eyes turned upwards, connecting with Urahara's grey irises, wrenching his heart in so many ways, stabbing into him with a gaze so full of pain and fear that he thought he could almost _feel_ the chaotic mess of emotions that swamped the fragile boy who gripped his hand so tightly. Those empty eyes filled with fluid, tears welling up behind a great dam, threatening to spill down those hollow cheeks at any moment. Ichigo looked as though he would choke upon the confession, and Urahara could feel something welling up inside himself, but it was not tears.

'I couldn't stop him…'

_No Ichigo, please God no._

'He…' Ichigo's voice was so small and quiet that it was almost lost in the void of noiselessness. 'He…' Ichigo made a hiccupping noise and the hand that Urahara held tightened further until he knew that the boy's nails were digging into the palm of his hand hard enough to break the skin.

_nonononononoNO_

'_He raped me.'_ When the admission came tumbling from the boy's cracked lips it was so silent that it barely registered against the sobs that followed, but the whisper hit Urahara like a sledgehammer. He held Ichigo again as he was racked with great hiccupping sobs and tears, but his mind was a blank, lost upon the shockwave of terror and disbelief.

It had really happened. And he had allowed, no, _enabled _it to happen. The well of emotion inside himself boiled over and flooded his body with heat, hot rage, anger like he had never thought to have experienced before. Self-pity over his part in Ichigo's imprisonment would have to wait; right now he wanted nothing more than to feel his hands around Aizen's neck, to choke the life out of him. Even that would be too good for him, a penance insignificant to what he had done to Ichigo, to his student, _his Ichigo._

'Shh…' he tried in vain to soothe the boy in his arms, sitting beside him on the bed and allowing the boy to hide his face in the crook of his neck, dampening his exposed skin. 'Shh Ichigo, it's okay. It's okay.'

_Who are you trying to kid Kisuke? It's NOT okay, and you both know it._

He knew it. And he also knew just how close he had come to losing the boy completely. But he was here; he was alive, broken but alive. And as long as Urahara could draw breath he would keep that monster of a man away from Ichigo, or die trying.

He couldn't even begin to imagine how Ichigo felt over those first few days, but as time stretched on, he seemed to be improving. Little by little he was getting his strength back, not enough to lift a sword in battle again, but he was getting close. And the days turned into a week, Urahara imagined that he began to see light breaking through the darkness that shrouded his eyes and soul. He still remembered how beautiful it had been to see him smile again, properly smile, and see those eyes sparkle back into life, even if only for the briefest of moments.

It was his family, they made him light up so exquisitely. When Ichigo had embraced his sisters for the first time since returning he had seen all the tension drain from his body, and that _smile._ Urahara had smiled too, feeling a warmth in his bones that he hadn't felt for a long time. Yuzu had cried, Karin had scowled and berated him for running off on his own again and getting into trouble. Urahara gathered that as far as they knew Ichigo had gone off and gotten himself into trouble with some gang again. Isshin had decided that it was best to keep the girls out of the entire spirit world situation for as long as was possible, and Urahara had no qualms with his decision. Isshin himself was much more difficult to placate. The two old friends left Ichigo to be scolded by his sisters and had retired to a more private setting.

Standing there with Ichigo's father, his own dear friend, Urahara once again felt sick to his stomach. Isshin had been kept as informed about the entire situation as anyone ever since they realised that Ichigo had been taken captive, and if not for the two young girls at home Urahara knew that he would've been at the front of the charge to rescue his son. But he didn't know the extent of what had happened to his child, the terrible truth that Urahara had only just confirmed for himself earlier that evening.

'Thank the Gods you got him out of there alive.' Isshin sat down heavily on the step, his hands cupped over his nose and mouth.

'It was touch and go for a while…' Urahara decided not to elaborate on the situation with the hollow. No sense in worrying the already stressed father.

'He's so… He seems so different.' Isshin sighed, uncharacteristically serious and suddenly Urahara realised that he was finally starting to show his age upon that face that had previously remained unchanged for so many decades. 'His eyes Kisuke…'

'I know.' Urahara sat down next to him, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. 'I understand how you feel…'

'No you don't.' Isshin snapped, shrugging off the hand. 'You don't have a fucking clue.' Urahara was quiet for a moment, choosing his next words carefully.

'No, I do. I… I care about him too.' Isshin gave him a curious look but let the comment slide, he was too busy wrapped up in worry and concern for his only son. But he had known Urahara long enough for him to be able to tell when the shopkeeper wasn't being entirely honest with him.

'There's something you're not telling me.' He looked suspiciously at his friend, his eyes, normally so unlike Ichigo's, were so weary, so tired, and they reflected the unspoken admission that perhaps he really didn't want to know the truth. 'What happened to my son in there Kisuke?' He sounded so defeated, carrying the burden of the father who had failed to protect his offspring, and Urahara knew that he couldn't bring himself to tell his dear friend the truth.

_The truth will set you free,_

but it can also imprison. And he didn't want to be the one to lock Isshin up in that emotional cage. If he had to, he would carry that burden himself. It was the least he could do. He exhaled as he answered the question that hung heavy in the air.

'Things worse than you or I can possibly imagine.'

And for a long time afterwards, there in the fading daylight on the steps of the Urahara shop, the shadows snuck in around the two men who sat there in a painfully silent contemplation of the darkness that was slowly creeping in and surrounding their little world.

* * *

Urahara was snapped back to the present time by that soft voice whispering in his ear.

'Kisuke…?' Ichigo was nuzzling into his hair like a sleepy child in need of comfort, whispering his name as his eyelids fluttered. Urahara smiled a little at the warm weight he felt in his lap.

'Ichigo. How many times have I told you to call me Urahara-sensei?' he teased, his voice low and gentle in the drowsy atmosphere of the warm room.

'You call me Ichigo.' Ichigo murmured into soft blonde hair.

'That's because you're my student, you cheeky young thing.' He teased, gently ruffling the orange strands as he felt the boy relax a little against him. He knew what Ichigo wanted to say, and he had no intention of hurrying or forcing him.

'It was him again, Kisuke.' His voice lost the playful edge, regressing again to that broken sound, the frightened child. 'It's like he's inside my head.'

'He has that effect on people.' Urahara murmured, regarding the redhead lazily from beneath his long blonde eyelashes.

'I'm pathetic.' Urahara opened his eyelids fully as Ichigo squeezed his own tightly shut, choking out those words.

'No.' He pushed Ichigo upright from his lap, resting his warm palms on the boy's shuddering shoulders, watching his eyes snap open at the contact and stare desperately into his own. 'No you are not. Do you know why I'm not telling you _'get a grip', 'get over it', 'move on'_? Because those kinds of things are impossible. You've been through so much Ichigo, it's a credit to your tenacity that you're still here with us now.'

'I know.' Pearl white teeth emerged to bite at Ichigo's lower lip. 'But I know that I can't stay like this.' His tan throat shuddered as he swallowed down his fearful bile. 'I have to get strong again; I have to be able to fight again. All I ever wanted to do was protect my friends, my family… but it seems that I can't even protect myself.' He hung his head at his last admission, tears welling behind his eyelids.

'You shouldn't have to.' Urahara murmured, his heart swelling with pity and anger. 'That's why I'm here… I'm the one who got you into this mess in the first place anyway.' It was Urahara's turn to hang his head and cast his eyes downwards, letting his hands drop from the teenager's shoulders. 'All this is my fault.'

'Don't ever say that!' Ichigo's head snapped upright and a trembling hand reached out to brush a hollow, stubble peppered cheek. 'You saved me.' Urahara raised his head and saw those eyes, _those goddamn eyes_, glisten in the light that threw itself from the hall to illuminate bits and pieces of the night blanketed room.

'If it wasn't for me…' Urahara faltered as he was cut off by Ichigo's near hysterical voice.

'Don't, don't, please, don't.' He stammered, his free hand sliding up to cup the other side of the older man's face. His voice hitched in his throat and his front teeth sunk into his bottom lip again as he fought to contain the tears that gleamed in his bright ochre eyes.

'You know…' Ichigo was the one to break the silence, speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully. 'When I was in there with my hollow I made a promise to him… It seemed so unreal, so much a part of the moment that I'd almost forgotten it. But I haven't. That's why I'm going to promise it to you too, right here and now.' He cleared his throat softly and blinked back the tears in the shimmering light as Urahara held his breath.

'I won't let Aizen hold me down any longer…' He whispered as he stared deep into Urahara's eyes, sliding those rough hands down his neck to rest upon his shoulders. 'I won't let him defeat me. I - I'm going to stand up and fight again… and I will destroy anyone who threatens my world.' His facial features seemed to soften in the dim light as the weight of this promise left Ichigo's shoulders, his arms dropping to his sides, the palms of his hands curling in the bed sheets.

'Ichigo…' Urahara whispered, words failing him as those eyes and that promise pulled him under. Instinctively he moved his left hand to lie upon Ichigo's right where it rested on the bed, taking it in his own and squeezing gently. A soft, weary kind of smile crept across the redhead's face and for a moment he seemed to be that same vibrant teenager that he was before all this tragedy happened.

Ichigo edged closer to him on the bed, and suddenly Urahara's heart was thumping in his chest. The warmth and low lighting in the room was making his head spin and though he had not been able to shake the drowsiness from his bones he could feel adrenaline shooting through his veins with every beat of his heart. Ichigo's eyes smouldered as the fading light swept through his hair and danced across his lips.

He couldn't think straight, he could barely breathe and without thinking he cupped Ichigo's cheek in his free hand and leaned in to press their lips together.

Ichigo startled, his eyes snapping wide open at the horribly familiar feel of lips on his. His mind jumped, flashing images of Aizen and the feeling of a foreign tongue penetrating his mouth. Urahara felt Ichigo's body stiffen in his arms, but he did not pull back. Squeezing his hand gently, he stroked the soft skin of the boy's cheek with his thumb and whispered against his lips, 'I'm not him, Ichigo.'

Ichigo let his tensed muscles go slack again and he sighed softly against Urahara's lips as they pressed gently against his own in a soft kiss.

'I'll never hurt you.' Urahara whispered again as he looked into the eyes of the younger man who gripped his hand so tightly.

'I know.' Ichigo's eyelids fluttered and he whispered back, 'I've always known that.' And this time it was he who lent forward to touch their lips together.

The kiss was gentle. It was soft, sweet and tender. Urahara did not push against him, did not prise his lips open to thrust his tongue inside. He did not bite at Ichigo's lips or run his nails along his skin. When Urahara moved his mouth softly against the teen's, he could not feel anything resembling Aizen Sosuke in the caress.

They stayed that way on the bed for some time, each lost in the slow dance of their lips and warm embrace of each other's body. When they parted it was at the insistence of Ichigo's yawn and the first rays of morning light which reminded both of them how many hours over into the next day time had moved.

'I'm sleepy.' Ichigo murmured against the older man's lips, his eyelids fluttering shut. 'Will you stay with me tonight?'

'Of course.' Urahara whispered back as he rose from the bed to extinguish the light in the hallway. When he returned the shinigami had already slipped back beneath the thin bed sheets, leaving more than enough space for him to slip in next to him. He curled an arm around the warm body and felt Ichigo subconsciously snuggle in closer to him, seeking out his the warmth of his body like a sleepy child.

'Thank you Kisuke…' Ichigo yawned, his voice fading along with his consciousness. 'For everything…' Urahara responded only by giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, and within minutes the rising and falling of Ichigo's chest told him that he was gone into a sleep sounder that he had experienced since he first had entered the realm of the hollows.

Time had stopped for Ichigo, there in that dark place of endless night. But now daylight had finally broken through and he was getting ready to take his first few steps back into the world. The body of the young man was warm and comforting in Urahara's arms as he slept his dreamless sleep. The nightmare would pass, and Ichigo would see the dawn of a new morning once again.

* * *

_FINALLY some UraIchi fluff :P and more to come! Eventually…_

_First off, as usual it took me so much longer that I had intended to get this updated, and this was mainly due to a bitch of a writer's block that I had on this chapter. It was only when I realised that holidays and my free time will be over in less than a week that gave me the kick up the arse I needed to get this done. Sorry. I will try to plough on with the next chapter (I already have a wee bit written) but if you've been following this story for a while you'll know that my track record is not so good. But I'll try my best._

_Lastly, as usual, I would very very much appreciate reviews. They also give me the kick I need to get on with the next chapter…_

_That being said, hope you enjoyed this long overdue update! And I hope I haven't lost my touch… :3_


	12. The Cave

**Chapter 12: The Cave**

_It's empty in the valley of your heart  
The sun, it rises slowly as you walk  
Away from all the fears, and all the faults you've left behind…_

_But I will hold on hope  
And I won't let you choke  
On the noose around your neck  
And I'll find strength in pain  
And I will change my ways_

_So come out of your cave walking on your hands  
And see the world hanging upside down...  
_

Waking up in the mornings was most definitely not Urahara's favourite part of the day (he used to joke with Isshin that the real reason for his defection was so that he had the freedom to sleep as late as he wished) but as he grudgingly opened his eyes he thought that he could get used to walking up next to a shock of orange hair with that warm body still snuggled in his arms.

Noise filtered in through the window, intruding upon their lazy solitude. The general hubbub coming from outside told Urahara the location of Ururu and Jinta, who had been warned not to disturb Ichigo on pain of punishment, and he knew that Tessai would be outside too, checking and doing everything he could to strengthen the spells and kidou's that formed the protective net over the shop, the net that would probably prove useless if Aizen himself decided to pay a visit, but which should be fairly effective against the lower level arrancars and (hopefully) the espada.

Renji and Rukia had been hanging around too, mainly out of concern for Ichigo but also partially as a means of hiding out from Soul Society. Even though everything had gone to plan this time, Urahara knew that the captain-commander was sure to be pissed, and none of them wanted to be around for the telling off. But they'd gone back to face the music a few days ago. Soifon had done likewise, muttering some dark threats at Urahara as she left. Orihime had left too, after staying at the shop for over a week she said that she wanted to go home, despite the protests of the others. But she was adamant in the way that only a homesick girl can be and she'd been allowed to leave, along with Yoruichi who had been posted as her guard until things seemed safer.

Urahara did a quick sweep of his memory and, as far as he knew, all the freeloaders had left. With the kids and Tessai outside that left him and Ichigo alone together in the shop for what must've been the first time since his return. Which also meant that he could catch a few more winks in bed before anybody came along to disturb them. In another life the thought of taking advantage of the redhead in his bed would have crossed his mind, but he knew that to do such a thing now was out of the question.

'_Goddamn you Aizen you sick bastard.'_ He silently cursed the cause of Ichigo's nightmares and bit his lip as the familiar rage twisted in his stomach. He didn't even realise how worked up he was getting until he felt Ichigo stir in his arms and mutter,

'Your reiatsu is turning dark.' He yawned, still half asleep but unusually perceptive. He'd been like that ever since he'd gotten back. 'Please don't get angry…' and Urahara caught the unspoken meaning _'It upsets me.'_

'Sorry.' He murmured against the back of Ichigo's head, nuzzling his nose into orange strands. Ichigo gave a deep, sleepy sigh and rolled over in his arms to face him. Urahara smiled at the half awake shinigami and greeted him with a short, soft touch of lips and an equally sleepy, 'Good morning.'

'Mmm.' Ichigo's eyes fluttered at the feel of the older man's lips. 'Morning. Man, I slept well.'

'Really?' He smirked against Ichigo's skin. 'I would've thought that having a handsome, yet obtrusive, shopkeeper in your bed would've made sleeping more difficult for you.'

'Haha.' Ichigo made no attempt to disguise the sarcasm in his voice. 'No actually it was the opposite.'

'Glad to hear it.' And he was. The nightmares would probably never completely dissipate, and if they did it would take a lot more time and healing, but one night free of the terrors was a small but significant victory in Ichigo's recovery.

'You know what that means though?' Ichigo mused. 'It means that you're gonna have to stay here every night…'

'I think that is something I could live with…' Urahara winced a little as he hinted at an issue that they really needed to discuss at some point. 'Your father however may not be so open to that concept…'

'Tch.' Ichigo made a small noise of annoyance, before breaking out in a smile. 'Oh I can just imagine the look on his face…'

'Yeah, right before he'd come at me brandishing a sword. No thanks, I'd like to keep my chiselled features.' Ichigo snorted, the closest thing to a laugh he'd heard from the boy in weeks. Talking about Isshin gave Urahara another quick stab of conscience to his gut, but he reminded himself that it was too late; he was in too deep now. They both were.

And he really didn't want to know how Isshin would react when he discovered that his oldest friend (emphasis on '_oldest_') was seducing his emotionally damaged son.

The sun rose higher in the sky, creeping through the blinds and shining in as he felt Ichigo stretch against him and yawn sleepily.

'We should get up.' Ichigo muttered, drowsily changing the subject.

'You're probably right…' Urahara hummed gently and proposed, 'Five more minutes?'

'Thought you'd never ask.' Ichigo mumbled as his eyes slipped shut again.

The room was warm and peaceful and neither of them was in any kind of hurry to get out of bed. It wasn't until Tessai stuck his head around the door, raising no eyebrows at discovering his employer and his patient in bed together, and informed them that not only had they slept through breakfast, they were liable to sleep through lunch as well if they did not shake a leg. Even then it was begrudgingly that they rose from the warm confines of the bed, Ichigo looking better and acting cheerier and more like his old self than he had since the day Urahara watched him stride into the abysmal mouth of the garganta, into hell itself. Gazing affectionately at the redhead with the light back in his eyes, he smiled a face splitting smile and wondered if perhaps, just this once, everything would be allowed to work out alright.

* * *

Later in the day, when the sun was just starting to turn to begin its slow descent into the earth, a soft knock on the shop door announced the arrival of Orihime and Yoruichi. She bounced in looking none the worse for wear after her ordeal, followed closely by her purple haired guard. Urahara smiled as he shooed the girl down to the training grounds where Ichigo was recapping upon basic training with Chad and Ishida as the first steps towards regaining his strength. The jovial expression on his face hardened somewhat as he turned to Yoruichi, his eyes full of questions and his face set in an uncharacteristically grim expression.

Down below them, Orihime descended into the vast, desert like training grounds where Ichigo had first entered the world of the hollows, and immediately spotted the three boys lying atop one of the numerous great rocks which littered the area. They were taking a short break from training as, despite the adrenaline that shot through his veins at the pleasantly familiar sensation of exercise, Ichigo wasn't faring too well. Ever since the flight from Las Noches, he had possessed barely enough strength to lift a sword. The basic exercises he was running through with Ishida and Chad were helping, and he was getting his strength back, but it was a frustratingly slow process, especially for the redhead who was so used to rushing through these types of things.

He stood up again, Urahara kept reminding him that that was what was important, that he kept standing back up, and wrenched Zangetsu from where he stuck lazily in the ground.

'C'mon Chad.' He gestured towards the muscle bound boy as he stood, 'Let's see how improved these arms of yours are.'

Orihime and Ishida sat on the picnic blanket that she had brought, nibbling on biscuits and drinking iced tea while the two warriors ran around below them, chasing each other around and around like siblings playfighting.

'Kurosaki-kun seems a lot better.' Orihime commented, her face cheery as always but her voice edged with the worry that Ishida noticed was always present when she was talking about Ichigo.

'Yes.' Ishida remained a man of few words. 'He does.'

'I'm glad.' She chewed at her lower lip for a moment before continuing, 'I don't know what they did to him, but I know that it was so much worse than how they treated me.' Guilt was clear in her eyes, and despite himself Ishida couldn't help but curse Ichigo for making her worry so.

'That's because Kurosaki is more difficult to manipulate…' Ishida murmured, 'No offence intended.' He added, suddenly worried that he was only making things worse. 'He's not as kind hearted as you, you know.'

'Oh I don't know about that.' Orihime looked like she was on the verge of tears again. 'That's why I simply have to get stronger, so that nobody has to go through something like that to protect me. Kurosaki- kun is always protecting me…' Ishida felt a stab of jealousy until she added, 'And so are you. All of you are always getting hurt because of me.' She turned towards Ishida, eyes shining with tears which she would not let fall. 'That's why I have to get stronger, so that I can protect the people I love…'

She broke off mid-sentence, her face colouring as she looked away, as though worried that she was about to betray some secret. Ishida smiled gently at her, sweet little Orihime, and placed his hand over her own pale white one, squeezing gently as a reassurance. They sat in silence like that for a while, each contemplating their own thoughts, each making silent promises to each other.

When Ichigo and Chad had finished tearing around beneath them, they headed back upstairs to rouse the others, pretending not to notice that Orihime and Ishida were still holding hands. After crawling up through the trapdoor they were surprised to find the usually noisy upper half of the shop quiet and almost lifeless. Ichigo's hairs stood on end and his hand flew to Zangetsu's hilt, resting there until he heard the unmistakeable voice of Yamamoto coming from down the hallway, presumably from the room where Urahara kept that ridiculous looking television type device that allowed them to communicate with Soul Society. They made a silent, joint decision that none of them particularly wanted to be involved with that conversation, Ichigo least of all, and tiptoed the opposite way off down the corridor to the shop's messy but spacious kitchen. Safely inside with the door slid shut, Ichigo shook the dust from his hair and announced that he was going to go put himself back into his body and take a long, hot bath. Bidding goodbye to his friends, he slunk off again down the corridor in the direction of the bathroom.

Despite his animosity towards the Captain Commander, Ichigo couldn't help but be intrigued by what was happening in the meeting room, as well as slightly irritated but grateful that he was being left out of it. And so, doing his best to cloak his reiatsu, he crept quietly closer to the slightly open door from which emanated several familiar voices.

'You can't be serious!' It was Urahara, his voice low but filled with hurt anger.

'There's no other option.' Yamamoto's deep rumbling tones; Ichigo could never mistake that voice.

'I hate to admit it, but the Captain Commander is right… He's the only one who even has a chance at getting close to the basta- to Aizen.' Unmistakably Yoruichi.

Ichigo felt the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end, and his fingers itched to grasp his sword just as his feet longed to run from that place.

'But we can't possibly ask him to do that, not after everything that's happened…' He heard Urahara let out a pained sigh and he somehow knew the wounded expression that was twisting his face without even having to look. 'How can we ask him to lead the charge, how can we possibly expect him to face Aizen alone?'

'Maybe you should take a step back. You're too emotionally invested Kisuke.' Yoruichi meant well, but Urahara could've cursed her for bringing that subject up in front of the others.

'Maybe I am. But right now it seems that I'm the only one who actually still gives a damn about him.' He scowled again at the figures on the screen above him; Yamamoto was flanked by his two favourites Shunsui and Ukitake. Seated around the table in the room Urahara was joined by the cat lady and her consort Soifon, along with captains Byakuya and the snow haired Hitsugaya, and the shopkeeper was beginning to feel distinctly cornered and crowded. 'And I cannot ask him to do this. You have no idea what he's been through, Gods, he's just a kid!'

'And he's still our best chance, perhaps our only chance of winning this war.' Yamamoto grumbled.

Ichigo's heart leap into his throat and he decided that he really didn't want to hear any more of the conversation, not this way. He fled as slyly as he could, his heart pounding as he held his hands over his mouth, the remnants of his lunch meal trying to force its way out of his stomach.

'I'm sorry Kisuke… I know what he means to you.' Yoruichi always knew, but there was little she could do to comfort him.

In the meeting room Urahara scowled at the Captain Commander and held his head in his hands as the screen went blank and the visitors departed, each with a heart a little heavier than when they had arrived.

Ichigo sunk into the bath, his heart and his head still pounding and fluttering. He felt bile in his throat from his now empty stomach and was ashamed at his reaction. He would have to face _him_ again, but how could he do that when he couldn't even hear his name without vomiting? He sunk lower into the soapy water and wondered if fate would ever allow him to escape his captivity.

* * *

_**A/N:**_

Okay so this chapter is shorter than usual, that's because this chap and the next were originally the same, but it ended up being waaay too long (over 6000 words before it was even finished) so I split it into two. The good news is that I'm almost finished up with the next chapter (yay) so stay tuned dear viewers for the next exciting instalment!

(Oh and without giving too much away, I can say that the next chapter is the one you've all been waiting for… ;) Heh)

P.S. Oh yes, I did just have some OriIshi in there. Yeah they're cute :3


	13. Hotel Aquarium

**Chapter 13: Hotel Aquarium  
**_  
Now I know that I'm alive  
All the loneliness is filled by you inside  
And as I finally breathe the air  
You open up my eyes  
Now I'm alive._

_(To the heights, to the heights, there is hope_  
_It's been waiting all along)_

The darkness seemed to fall quicker than usual upon the Urahara Shoten that night. Urahara had been locked in his makeshift laboratory since the end of his meeting with Soul Society, not even coming out for dinner. The lack of his presence and Ichigo's brooding (made worse by the shopkeeper's absence) had not gone unnoticed, and a general gloomy mood hung over the shop. Even the children were affected by it and had gone off to bed early without a fuss, something that was almost unheard of. Tessai had attempted to cheer Ichigo up, but after dinner the boy had retired to his room with a wan smile. He'd made a phone call to his house and wished with all his heart that he could be there with his bright, beautiful family. He even missed goat face. But of course he wasn't allowed out of the shop, not even accompanied, something that he was sorely jealous of Orihime for, and he didn't want his family hanging around the shop, just in case the worst would happen in the form of an attack. He spoke to them for what seemed like hours, until the sleepy yawns of his little sisters made him shoo them away to bed. After that he sat wrapped in his bed sheets, staring out of the window at the rain which had suddenly begun to fall. He knew that it would be raining in his inner world too, but even the thought of the hollow soaking and drenched like a damp cat barely elicited a smile.

Eventually, after all the lights had dimmed inside and out, and the rain had increased to beat a steady rhythm against the roof, Ichigo heard soft but unmistakable footsteps padding down the corridor. He heard the steps stop outside of his room, and he hoped for a moment that the owner of the footsteps would step inside, but instead there was only a silent pause, followed by the soft click and swish of Urahara's bedroom door across the hall. He sat there for a minute, torn between indignation and curiosity, between fear and love, before he swallowed his dread and tumbled from his bed, following those footsteps across the hall, pausing briefly before his door as the footsteps had done before his.

There was a soft chap on the bedroom door, and Urahara felt his heart sink before he even spoke to invite the inquiring visitor in.

'Come in Ichigo.' He murmured. He knew without looking that it was Ichigo and he knew without asking the reason for his visit. The panel door slid open and Ichigo squinted through the dim light at him. He was dressed in a set of borrowed, too-large pyjamas that hung from his skinny frame and, Urahara thought with a stab of guilt, made him look even younger.

'How'd you know it was me?' He asked. Urahara smiled as he lit a couple of well used candles to bring more light into the room.

'You're still not great at the reiatsu control.' He shrugged. 'Besides, who else would be knocking on my bedroom door at this time?' Ichigo took a hesitant step into the room and slid the door shut behind him, pausing in the candlelight as he tried to build up the courage to ask about what he had overheard.

'Kisuke…' He began, but was gently cut off as Urahara began to speak.

'I know,' Urahara nodded softly and Ichigo thought that he suddenly looked very tired in the soft glare. 'You overheard our meeting.'

'Oh.' For a moment Ichigo didn't even know what to say. 'My reiatsu, right?'

'Bingo.' The shopkeeper smiled wearily as he hung up his hat on the corner of a messy wardrobe and motioned for Ichigo to come closer.

'Sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop.' He felt like he was being chastised for being a naughty child and felt a stab of guilt at his slyness. 'I was just passing by and -'

'It's alright.' Urahara waved his concerns away with a weary hand. 'You have a right to know what we were discussing.' Ichigo moved further into the room to face the blonde. Silence hung in the air for a moment as Urahara waited for Ichigo to respond.

'They want me to fight him.' The shinigami's voice was barely a whisper as he stared helplessly into Urahara's eyes, and the blonde felt like his heart was breaking.

'Yes…' He sighed, not wanting to admit the terrible truth. 'I'm against it; it's far too much to put on your shoulders in the first place, nevermind after everything that's happened.' Ichigo looked away at that, he couldn't stand to be looked at like he was broken, even though he was well aware that he was.

'Why me?' The look of the lost little child was back in his averted eyes and Urahara though that his heart really would break just from looking at him.

'It's because of his zanpakutō.' Ichigo looked back at him, confused, waiting for an explanation. 'You know about its power.'

'Illusions.' Ichigo shuddered at the memories that crowded his mind, illusions of pain and suffering and death.

'Correct… but you know these aren't just any illusions. They're incredibly powerful, and by all accounts infallible.' Urahara paused in his explanation for a moment to tilt his head towards Ichigo. 'Except when they're used on you.'

'What?' The redhead's brow furrowed, he thought that they sure seemed to work the last time he'd checked.

'You said that when you were in Las Noches…' Urahara bit his lip, trying not to push the issue too much. 'That even though… _he_ used kyōka suigetsu on you, that the illusions created by it were not absolute.'

'Yeah, at first they were but then it was like, I dunno, like they lost their power or something… The first ones I saw were really solid, totally indistinguishable from reality…' He shuddered violently as he remembered the vividness of Orihime's blood splashing on the floor, but then he felt Urahara's hand on his own and he breathed again. 'But as time passed… It was like they lost substance. They looked real, they smelt real and if I touched them they would've felt real to the touch, but they didn't _feel_ real, like a spirit without reiatsu I guess. I don't really know how to describe it.'

'It doesn't matter if you can articulate it, that's it; you're the only one who can tell the difference.' _And oh Gods how I wish that you weren't. '_We don't know why, it might have something to do with the fact that you're human or the fact that you're a vizard, maybe you haven't had enough exposure to it, or maybe you've had too much… but for some reason Aizen's sword loses its potency when it is used on you.' Urahara saw light shining in Ichigo's eyes for a moment, the light of hope perhaps; smouldering softly in the candlelight, but it was quickly extinguished as that panic crept back in.

'But I can't fight him Kisuke.' Ichigo sounded scared again, after all the damage was only hidden just beneath the surface.

'You will get stronger, Ichigo.' Urahara tried to reassure him, taking his hand and squeezing ever so gently, but he could feel the boy slipping away.

'It's not just a matter of physical strength!' Ichigo pulled his hand from Urahara's grasp as though he was burned. 'He took something from me and I can't ever face him again, nevermind fight him.'

'Ichigo…' Urahara murmured, low and steady. He was worried that the boy was bordering on hysteria.

'He took it, don't you get it?' Ichigo caught himself suddenly, and the frenzied edge to his voice dropped away as his shoulders slumped. 'He took everything from me… Everything I wanted to give to you…' All the frenzy and anxiety seemed to leave his body, as though the admission had lifted a great weight from his chest. Almost breathlessly he pressed on, as though afraid the words would escape him if he did not capture that moment, 'But he could never take away the way I feel...'

Urahara swallowed hard. He closed the distance between them with one step, never taking his timeworn, grey eyes from Ichigo's bright, burning orbs. He reached out to him, running the rough pads of his fingers along the curve of the redhead's cheekbone.

'Ichigo…' his voice was nearly a whisper as it caught in his throat, Ichigo's eyes fluttered shut at his touch before he spoke again.

'I still feel him. Everything I do, Kisuke, I feel him in everything I do…' With his eyes still shut Ichigo reached up to place his hand over the one caressing his face. 'It's like, when I open my eyes', he opened his eyes, 'I'm going to see him there, and this will all just be one of his illusions.' He leant forward, so close that their lips were almost touching, his ochre eyes staring into Urahara's as though nothing else in the world existed. 'Everything I feel, I feel him in. Every time I'm touched…' His eyes slid shut again in a grimace of some remembered pain. 'It's his touch I feel, his cold hands…' Urahara felt a shiver pass through Ichigo and into his own body. 'I need to feel something else.' Those golden eyes half opened for a moment as he summoned his courage and pressed his lips against Urahara's. Without parting, and with his eyes tight shut he whispered, 'Kisuke, I need to feel you.'

If Urahara's heart could've broken any further, it would have in that moment. Ichigo was so marked by the haunting memory of what Aizen had done to him that the only way he could consider dealing with it was by replacing those horrific sensations with something, somebody else.

'_He took from me everything I wanted to give to you.'_

'No. No, Ichigo I… I can't.' He dropped his hand from Ichigo's face and took a step back as he stammered; suddenly he was the one at a loss for words. 'You're not in a good place right now… You're not yourself, you're not thinking straight.'

'Kisuke,' the raw emotion, the _need_ in his voice almost overwhelmed the older man. 'You told me, right there in front of him, you told me that you needed me. Well right now I need you.' He took his hand again. 'More than anything I need to feel something, someone that isn't him. I need to feel you. Just you.' Urahara couldn't stand it any longer, and he pulled the boy towards him in a warm embrace, hugging him tightly to his chest.

'You're always on the attack…' He murmured. 'Always taking the most dangerous route, using the most insane methods. You never think about what it's going to cost you...' _Or the people around you._ Ichigo could feel Urahara's soft voice reverberating in his chest. He released his grasp as Ichigo pulled back, and looked deep into those burning irises as he pleaded with him, 'Please don't beg me to do this, because I will. You know I will. I'd do anything for you…Anything to save you.' The light thrown by the candles danced over their faces, lighting up Ichigo's unusually pale features. And he smiled, a weary, genuine smile that lit his face from the inside.

'I know.'

The rain still battered against the roof above them, and the wind howled outside like a wolf, but neither of them noticed as Urahara held Ichigo tighter in the candlelight.

'You're so delicate right now.' He whispered as he ran his nose along the curve of Ichigo's jaw. 'It feels as though you'd break if I so much as kissed you...'

Ichigo inhaled sharply and his eyes snapped open as he spoke.

'Then break me, break me until there's nothing left of me. Because you can put me back together, make me new, make me stronger... Just make me a different person from who I am right now.' Urahara could feel what little was left of his restraint slipping. 'You're the only one who can do it. Kisuke, I need you to do it. You're the only one who can make me feel whole again'

'We should take this slowly…' The shopkeeper hummed as he pressed gentle, fleeting kisses to Ichigo's neck. He could already feel him squirming in his arms.

'N - no. It's all or nothing. It has to be. That's the way it always has to be.' Ichigo muttered, and Urahara knew that there was no point in arguing with him. There was never any point in arguing with him.

'I know.'

The candles began to flicker as Urahara raised his head to catch Ichigo's lips in a kiss as gentle as he could manage with that all that heat burning in his chest. The panic only lasted for an instant, flashing in Ichigo's eyes for the briefest of moments before dissipating, his fears settling. They moved their mouths slowly, testing and tasting each other until Ichigo relaxed, getting used to the pleasant sensations. Urahara softly ran his fingers up and down the trembling boy's back, coaxing him with tender movements, and it was Ichigo who deepened the kiss, pressing harder against the older man's lips in a demanding movement. He responded by running his tongue along Ichigo's full lower lip, lightly prising apart his lips to slip inside.

Ichigo gasped into his mouth, and Urahara gave him a moment to relax before sliding his tongue against Ichigo's. This time he did not falter, but replied with cautious exploration into Urahara's mouth, tongues moving against each other in a way that was not unfamiliar to Ichigo yet completely different from anything that he had experienced before. Urahara felt the tension drain from the body that he held in his arms as they remained locked in the passionate gentleness of the embrace.

Ichigo started tugging softly at the collar of Urahara's shirt, and he took that as a sign that they should move. Taking Ichigo's hand in his own, he pulled away from the kiss and encouraged him to move with him to the bed. Ichigo sat down upon the mattress with a soft _thump_, and Urahara pulled him into the centre of the bed. Leaning over the younger man he pressed soft, sweet kisses to his lips and along his jawline, moving his mouth curiously to the bared skin of his neck. He felt Ichigo flinch beneath the slight pressure of his lips, his skin flushed and trembling. Brushing aside the collar of Ichigo's nightshirt, he traced the lines of his collarbone with gentle fingers. He drew a line down his chest, carefully unbuttoning his shirt with nimble fingers as he went, turning his attention back to the boy's trembling mouth to stifle the soft noises that began to spill from his lips.

'Kisuke…' Ichigo shifted below the older man. His skin was on fire, he'd never experienced anything this like before. He was burning up beneath the touch of calloused fingers and soft lips and he'd never felt such a yearning for contact before.

_(skin on skin)_

But every time that mouth pressed against his and his eyes flickered shut and darkness took his vision for even the tiniest of moments, he was back in the hollow blackness that never ended, and he could feel the cold fingers closing in around him, on his wrists, on his neck, forcing their way into his most private places, ripping apart his soul.

'Don't shut your eyes.' Eyelids flickered, and Urahara could see the rising panic in his eyes, sense it in his reiatsu. 'Don't look away.' He murmured, rubbing his nose softly against Ichigo's, brushing bright locks of hair back from his damp forehead. 'Focus on me.' Ichigo shifted himself into a sitting position, finding it strange that he felt only a little fear when the soft cloth of his nightshirt slipped from his shoulders. But the air that brushed his skin was not as cold as the night. And the lips that pressed against his were soft and warm and unobtrusive. And the eyes that stared into his were pale and grey and full of warmth. And when Urahara pulled his own shirt over his head, he was not afraid to reach out and touch his hot skin, running his fingers down the lean body of the older man. And he was not ashamed to be pulled close, to be kissed and caressed until he lost his mind. The candlelight lit up the warm room, and in those moments nothing could have been further from his nightmare world.

Warm fingers trailed down Ichigo's torso, brushing gently against skin growing damp with sweat. Dancing across his chest, the fingers sought out and skimmed against the raised bud of his nipple, applying gentle pressure with the rough finger pads until he gasped and squirmed against the touch. The fingers trailed lower, circling his navel, dripping into the grooves of his hipbones.

'Look at me. Ichigo.' Their foreheads pressed together, Urahara whispered almost breathlessly as he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of Ichigo's pyjama trousers. 'Feel me.' It was all that Ichigo could do to keep from crying out when those fingers brushed his growing erection, stroking him so gently that he thought he might just go insane from the slight pressure. Urahara continued to caress him while nuzzling his ears and pressing kisses to his lips, muffling the gasps from the boy beneath him.

'I will never hurt you.' He whispered in Ichigo's ear, flicking a tongue against his lobe and sucking ever so gently. 'The nightmare will come to an end, because I'll always protect you.'

Urahara turned his attention to Ichigo's chest again as he laid a trail of gentle kisses down the lines of bone and muscle, feeling the boy shift beneath him as his skin blushed with arousal. He flicked his tongue against the curve of the shinigami's hipbone and smiled against the skin when he felt Ichigo flinch. Slowly, he tugged on the waistband of his trousers until they slid down his legs and were discarded in a heap on the floor, along with his underwear. Ichigo blushed madly as the cold air was replaced with warm breath against his most sensitive skin. Then the hot breath covered him as he felt soft lips against the head of his member. He threw his head back against the pillow as that first lightning bolt of pleasure shot through his body. When he felt himself being taken in to the damp warmth of Urahara's mouth it was all he could do to keep from crying out, and when he felt his tongue run along him he had to make an effort not to thrust into his mouth. Those warm fingers splayed across his hips, dipping into the curve of his hipbones as Urahara built a rhythm, taking him in and out of his mouth. He ran his fingers through soft blonde hair as the pleasure shot through his body. His body moved to the rhythm of Urahara's tongue as sensations that he'd never experienced before danced along his skin, inside his veins, from the tips of his toes to the hair on his head, coaxing soft sounds, gasps and moans, from between his lips.

'K-Kisuke.' He gasped. 'If you keep doing that I'm going to…' He blushed harder as the words caught in his throat.

Urahara wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Ichigo had only ever been made to feel terrible, wrong, dirty and guilty about his orgasms, to the point where he couldn't even articulate the words. He lifted his head and crawled back up the bed to where Ichigo lay.

'That's sort of the point.' The corners of his mouth curled gently as he ran his nose along the curve of Ichigo's jawline. 'Are you sure that you want to do this?'

'Yes…' His breath came in shaky, unsteady gasps but his voice was firm and sure. His golden eyes were clear of any haze and fixated upon Urahara's grey irises. 'Don't stop.'

Urahara gently shifted the boy's light body against his own, rolling him so that he lay upon the older man's chest. He claimed Ichigo's mouth again with his own as he fumbled in the drawer of the bedside table for something to take the edge off Ichigo's discomfort. He retrieved a small bottle from the drawer, and Ichigo blushed at the sight of it, knowing full well what it was. Urahara hummed and distracted him with another kiss as he coated his fingers and ran his prepared hand down Ichigo's back to cup his rear.

Ichigo gasped and squirmed uncomfortably when he felt the too familiar sensation of digits pushing inside of him, though the pain and discomfort was much lessened with the gentle pressure of Urahara's slim fingers and the slipperiness of the lubricant coating them. As they moved inside Ichigo tried to relax into the intrusion, trying to focus entirely on the blonde hair and soft lips that brushed against his skin. Taking his time, Urahara tested the water, moving slowly so as not to hurt or frighten the boy.

'Kisuke…' Ichigo moaned 'I can't stand it, hurry…'

Urahara bit his lip. Despite everything Ichigo was still so tight and he didn't want to rush but the intoxicating sight and smell of the redhead was pushing him close to the edge. But he kept control, knowing full well the importance of care in his current actions. Any rough play would push Ichigo back into that dark abyss, and if he was the one who hurt him he know that there would be no coming back for the boy. Not if he was hurt by the only one he trusted

Once he was satisfied that Ichigo was ready, Urahara removed his fingers and rolled the redhead onto his back again. He pressed kisses to the hot skin of Ichigo's neck as he deftly removed his own remaining clothing, feeling the shudder of Ichigo's skin as it moved against his own. He leaned down to taste his lips once again as he coated his member with lubricant, and made one last attempt at reassurance.

'Ready?' he breathed; his breath and heartbeat steady despite what he was about to do. Ichigo started up at him out of those pleading golden eyes and nodded, unwilling to trust his voice to speak for him. Urahara leant in for one final, deep kiss as he held Ichigo's legs apart, slowly pushing and beginning to slide into him. Ichigo's eyes snapped shut and he shuddered again, his mind reacting to the sickeningly familiar sensation as his body tried to adjust to the intrusion.

With his eyes shut the darkness crept in again, the smell and taste of blood hung in the air around him as he was violently violated over and over. He was back in the eternal night, chained to a bed with stained sheets in a room lit only by a few slivers of moonlight. The sadistic lord pinned him down, biting and scratching and forcing his disgusting body inside of Ichigo's. He tried to scream but his mouth was covered, smothered with rough lips and a forceful tongue while hands tormented him, forcing masochistic pleasure in the intrusion. Cold hands covered his face

_(except they weren't cold, not anymore. The hands were gentle and the lips were soft and warm.)_

Eyelids flickered, and then there were those warm hands on his face, bringing him back to reality, opening his eyes.

'Ichigo!' Urahara almost panicked when he saw Ichigo's eyes cloud over and slip shut, but he had brought him back again, back into the warm glow of the candlelight. He held Ichigo in his arms as his shudders subsisted, breathing deeply as their skin burned against each other. He knew that they should stop, but he also knew that they were both too far gone.

'Just focus on my voice…' he murmured into Ichigo's ear as he started to move slowly inside of him. He felt the redhead gasp and squirm against him and he had to bite his lip to keep himself from moaning at the feeling of his tight warmth. 'Focus on me, on my image, my smell… the way I feel inside you...'

Ichigo fought the urge to clench his eyelids shut as his heart fluttered in his chest. Urahara's grey eyes burned into his own as they worked up a steady rhythm. Warm fingers slipped in-between his own and their foreheads pressed together. Urahara was moving slowly, letting Ichigo adjust to the feeling, trying not to scare him but the pace was frustratingly slow and neither of them could stand it much longer.

'Kisuke please…' Ichigo groaned and his hips twitched with impatience. His body was as tense as a coiled spring and he was about to snap.

'I don't want to hurt you.' Urahara murmured as he pressed kisses against Ichigo's neck and chest, fighting the urge to move harder and faster against the boy.

'I… I don't care. If it's you, I don't even care if you hurt me.' Ichigo swallowed the lump in his throat as he reached up to cup Urahara's face in his hands. 'I just need you to make me feel again.' His eyes were misty with love and lust and need and a thousand other unspoken feelings and emotions, and Urahara realised in those moments that Ichigo was stronger than he had ever imagined.

'Oh fuck…' He gave in, burying those pleading lips in a deep, breathless kiss as he began to move faster, pushing deeper inside of the redhead. Ichigo cried out, his spine arching as a burst of pleasure ruptured the discomfort, his head falling back against the pillow. Urahara took his face in his hands and brought him back to look back into his eyes. 'It's me Ichigo.' He ran the pad of his thumb along Ichigo's lip as he thrust inside of him; his other hand ran down his neck, along the curve of his collarbone and played across his chest, lazily teasing the raised buds of his nipples. 'Look at me, feel me.' He was having difficulty formulating words in the bolts of ecstasy that shot through his body at the taut warmth that enveloped him but he had to let to Ichigo hear his promises. 'I'll never hurt you. I'll never let anyone hurt you.'

'Aah..!' Ichigo found it impossible to stop the lewd noises slipping from his lips. He'd never imagined that his body could feel so good. It was no longer the painful, masochistic pleasure that he'd experienced in hell, and even when Urahara was rough with him it was nothing like being with Aizen. Every time he jerked his hips Ichigo cried out as pleasure shot through his body, he was being taken over by the heat and the pressure and he could feel something building up deep inside of him that he'd never felt before.

'Gods Ichigo… You're so tight.' When Urahara growled in his ear he was not afraid nor disgusted, and even when he shut his eyes now the candlelight still shone through his eyelids, warming him, filling him with light. He was drowning in the warmth of the light, of the body pressed against his own and the sparks coming from his insides. He was no longer afraid as he pressed his lips against those of his partner and felt his gasp as he moved inside of him.

Urahara's body was on fire, and he couldn't hold in it much longer as he moved inside of the younger man. When Ichigo pulled him close and captured his lips, their tongues clashing in frenzied ecstasy, he couldn't stop the massive gush of pleasure that swept through his body.

'Ichigo, I'm going to…' He gasped as his orgasm ripped through him, pouring out into the redhead that squirmed below him.

Ichigo had expected that the feeling of hot fluid flooding his insides would be every bit as dirty and unpleasant as it had always been, but the sight and feel of Urahara was enough to tip him over the edge when he felt his insides gush warm with his seed.

'Aah, Kisuke! Fuck!' His back arched off of the bedcover and his damp skin was pressed against Urahara's again as the pressure spiked and released suddenly inside of him, sticky fluid covering his stomach and splashing onto the blonde's chest as he came.

Ichigo's vision swam as he tried to get his heartbeat under control from the massive rush of endorphins that he'd just experienced. He winced as he felt Urahara pull out and flop down next to him on the bed, his own chest rising and falling as quickly as Ichigo's was.

'Are you alright?' The shopkeeper breathed heavily, his warm breath tickling Ichigo's ear as he spoke.

'Yeah…' Ichigo breathed deep and hard. 'Just let me… catch my breath.' Urahara couldn't help but laugh at the look of flushed contentment on the younger man's face as he pulled him near and pressed weary kisses to his lips. Ichigo smiled at his laughter, he too was experiencing for the first time the afterglow of mutual lovemaking. 'That was… incredible.' He muttered as his eyes began to slip shut in the hazy warmth of the room as he relaxed into the feelings still buzzing through his skin.

'Hey wake up sleepy head.' Urahara gave him a playful nudge. 'We need to get cleaned up before you fall asleep like this.' He smiled softly as he kissed the redhead's damp forehead.

'Nngh.' Ichigo muttered and yawned as he sat up, feeling the post-sex lethargy set in. Urahara grudgingly moved from the bed, and disappeared for a moment into the bathroom attached to his room, reappearing to throw a clean towel at Ichigo's head.

'You'd better clean yourself off, unless you'd rather I did it for you?' Joviality flashed in Urahara's grey orbs as he wriggled his eyebrows at the redhead on his bed. Ichigo snorted and made a face at him.

'I'm sure I can cope.' He replied as he began to dab at the sticky fluid on his legs.

'Oh well, suit yourself.' Urahara shrugged as he went back into the bathroom to clean himself off.

When he returned Ichigo was already curled up beneath the bed sheets, dressed in his night trousers once more, his chest rising and falling softly as though he was already asleep. Urahara retrieved his underwear from where they had fallen on the floor and slipped in next to him. He slid his arms around the smaller body that inhabited his bed and smiled softly as Ichigo cuddled in closer to the warmth of his body, yawning as his eyes fluttered open to gaze into his own. Urahara wanted to speak but it felt as though Ichigo was gathering his words to say something important, something that needed to be said.

'You know what…' The redhead mumbled after a moment of silence, '…he didn't take everything.' He paused again to collect himself. 'Because, this is the first, the only, time I've done this in my flesh and blood body.' And it was true, and somehow this lifted a great weight from each of their hearts. Urahara chuckled.

'Are you telling me I just took your virginity?' He murmured as he nuzzled Ichigo's face.

'Yes…' He felt the younger man smile as he spoke. 'At least there is one thing that is sacred. You're the only one who's ever known me as a human.'

'I'm glad.' Urahara whispered as his eyelids began to slip shut in the warmth that covered them both.

'I'm still real, right Kisuke?' Ichigo's hesitant question made his eyes snap open again.

'What?' He furrowed his brow, not quite sure what Ichigo was getting at.

'I'm still human, right?' His golden eyes were wide and staring, but no longer full of that pain and fear that had become so commonplace in their brightness.

'Unfortunately so.' Urahara smirked and was relieved to see Ichigo smile back at him. 'Just remember that I meant what I said to you Ichigo; I'll always look after you…'

'Thank you Kisuke…' Ichigo whispered as fatigue stole over his body once again. Urahara pressed his lips to the boy's forehead as he drifted off to sleep in his arms, their bare skin smouldering comfortably against each other as the candles burned out and moonlight began to creep in through the slats of the window, strands falling upon the bed and illuminating the lovers in their embrace. But the darkness and moonlight had no place in Ichigo's dreams any longer, and he slept on through the night without fear of what the darkness might hold, with the warmth of his lover surrounding him, protecting him, as he had sworn to do forever.

But, unseen and unnoticed by everybody in the shop, something was stirring in the night. And as the last candle burned out, for a moment the moonlight flashed upon a pair of hellish brown eyes burning in the darkness. Ichigo shivered in his sleep but did not awaken, for his mind was far from the cold hand that brushed against the flushed skin of his face. And when morning came there would be no trace of anything amiss in the sleepy morning sun, but for the cold itch upon his cheek...

* * *

_A/N: It's finally done! This is one of the longest chapters I've ever written (eek). It's also probably the one that most of you have been waiting for (I know I have...)_

_I would love, love, love some feedback on this cause I've never really written anything like this before. I hope it's just the right amount of lemon and fluff… Reviews would be much appreciated as usual._

_Stay tuned for the next exciting update guys! :3_


	14. Coming Out Strong

**Chapter 14: Coming Out Strong**

_Follow me, and I'll take you somewhere lighter  
Than you've been  
Come with me, I won't let you fall apart  
Not again  
And it's been so long, Just barely holding on  
We're coming out strong…_

_Hey... You're smiling again_  
_Leave the scars, the future is waiting…_

'Gah, Ichigo…' Urahara gasped as sharp teeth scraped his neck, sending shivers through his skin and down his spine. Warm hands ran across his chest, sneaking under his clothes, pushing aside the fabric of his shirt to allow the redhead better access to the pale skin of his neck. Urahara leant back against the solid headboard attached to his bed, biting his lip at the warm weight of the shinigami deliberately pressing against his crotch. Ichigo was perched on his lap, straddling him upon on the bed as he teased his skin.

'This isn't going to make me change my mind you know.' Urahara murmured as Ichigo tugged the soft cloth of his shirt down past his shoulders.

'Please Kisuke…' He whined as he pressed fleeting kisses across the strong line of his stubble peppered jaw, his eyes half lidded as they gazed out at him pleadingly.

'I won't put you in danger.' Urahara couldn't bring himself to look in those eyes for fear that his resolve would crumble to pieces under the beseeching stare.

'Bullshit.' Ichigo hissed in his ear. 'Do you really think we're safe from him here?' His teeth scraped against Urahara's neck again, making his skin shudder with pleasure. 'Do you really think we could keep him out if he wanted in?' Ichigo sat back in his lap and fixed him with a weary stare. 'Don't lie to me Kisuke.'

'Ichigo…' Urahara could feel his resolution slipping at Ichigo's repeated pleas. The young shinigami had been trying to convince him for weeks now to be allowed out of the shop; away from the enchantments that everyone was kidding themselves would be worth a damn for keeping Aizen out.

'I know you're just trying to protect me, but I've been stuck in this goddamn shop for nearly a month now. I'm going crazy here Kisuke, I need to get out, even if it's only for a few hours.' The wheedling tone returned to his voice as he fluttered his eyelashes and fixed Urahara with wide eyes that were almost 'puppy dog' in their pleading nature. 'I just want to be free for a few hours, that's all I'm asking. Is that so bad?'

'Goddammit…' Urahara frowned at the redhead in his lap and muttered. 'How did you learn how to twist me round your little finger so quickly?' Ichigo grinned, sure of his victory in this on-going argument, and he looked so smug that Urahara just had to fight back. He pulled Ichigo towards him again, kissing him passionately, running his hands up and down the redhead's back. Ichigo made soft noises as he kissed back, giving as good as he got. He ran his fingers along the brim of Urahara's hat as they touched, hooking his fingers underneath it, lifting from his head so that he could run his fingers through the soft pale locks of the older man. He let the hat fall to the floor when Urahara pushed him down to the bed, moving his fingers to push the cloth of the shopkeeper's robes further down his back as he leant over him. Urahara kissed Ichigo's neck in a way that he knew would have frightened him terribly had he done so a couple of weeks previously. But as it was now, Ichigo was slowly getting used to physical contact again, specifically; the young shinigami hadn't slept in his own bed since they had first spent the night together. It wasn't all about sexual contact though, some nights they would lie together just feeling their skin touching, or the rising and falling of Urahara's chest as Ichigo slept cuddled up to him. And despite the circumstances, Urahara couldn't help but guiltily admit that the time he had spent with Ichigo recently had been some of the happiest weeks he'd had in a long, long time.

He started pressing bruising kisses to Ichigo's neck to distract himself from the guilt that welled in his soul at these thoughts, taking refuge in the sounds of pleasure that escaped Ichigo as he sucked gently on the sensitive skin of his neck.

'Nngh..! Kisuke.' Ichigo hissed as Urahara bit down gently on his neck, sparking off pain and pleasure across his delicate skin. He could feel Ichigo growing hard beneath him and he had to fight the temptation to take him right there and then. He was starting to push the boundaries of Ichigo's comfort zones, but there were still limits on what he could do, on how far he could push.

'You know better than to tease me Ichigo.' Urahara murmured against his neck as he started to unbutton Ichigo's shirt with slender, deft fingers, pressing kisses to his neck and chest as he did so. He felt Ichigo's breath catch in his throat as he pinched at the fabric that covered his nipple, and smiled as he leaned in to smother his moans with another deep kiss.

The shopkeeper was just about to turn his mouth to tease Ichigo's chest when they were interrupted by a sharp knock on the bedroom door. Urahara lifted his head from Ichigo's neck and smiled shamelessly at Tessai as he slid the door open, not even batting an eyelash at the sight that he found before him.

'Lunch is ready…' he mumbled through his moustache as he nodded his head towards the two men on the bed before softly sliding the door shut again. Urahara had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the horrified look on Ichigo's face, his cheeks burned with flames of embarrassment at being caught in flagrante with the blonde.

'You okay?' Urahara nuzzled at his face but resisted the urge to continue teasing the blushing redhead.

'Yeah.' Ichigo swallowed his embarrassment as the flames subsided. 'I just didn't exactly expect him to come in then.'

'Well it's not like our… relationship' _(could he call it that?)_ 'is exactly a secret to the residents of this shop.'

'I know.' Ichigo shrugged as best he could with his back still pressed against the mattress. 'I just don't want everybody thinking that I'm…'

'Being taken advantage of?' Ichigo winced as Urahara filled in the gaps in his speech for him.

'That's one way of putting it.' He mumbled, averting his eyes from the blonde leaning over him.

'Hey.' Urahara ran his fingers along the curve of his chin, tilting his head back so that their eyes met again. 'It doesn't matter what people think, all that matters is that you're happy…' He paused, unsure how to press on. '…Are you happy?'

'Yeah.' A slow smile crept across Ichigo's face and into his eyes as he spoke. 'I am.' Urahara couldn't help but grin back at him as he pressed another soft kiss to his waiting lips.

'Good.' Urahara grudgingly rose from the bed and offered his hand to help Ichigo do the same, giving the redhead a cheeky wink as he spoke. 'Now I don't know about you but I'm starving…' He started to readjust his clothing and frowned, turning to the boy on the bed with a wicked sparkle in his eyes.

'Now, what did you do with my hat..?'

* * *

Ichigo breathed deeply, tasting the fresh air as they walked along the tree lined road. Urahara in his slightly more conservative looking gigai was walking a few steps behind, giving him the illusion of freedom that he so desired. Despite the nagging of his conscience he was glad that he'd crumbled to the requests of his young lover as he watched him walk in the autumn sunlight. The warm light beamed down through the slight chill in the air and alighted upon Ichigo's moon drenched skin, tangling in his hair and seeming to light him up from the inside out. When he turned to look for the shopkeeper his smile was warm and genuine, so different from the drained, defeated expression that Urahara had been used to seeing upon his face. A gentle breeze ruffled the strands of his hair as leaves drifted lazily past him in the fall afternoon and his cheeks were tinged pink from the warm sunlight bathing his cold skin. The colour had returned to his face and the spark of light was burning brighter in his eyes, looking at him in that moment Urahara could almost have believed that he was a normal youth, free from all the troubles of his existence.

When Ichigo reached out his hand towards Urahara his eyes fell upon the thin red band around his wrist, something that would've been mistaken for a bracelet by anybody but those who knew its true nature. A little reiatsu cancelling device, one of the conditions of Ichigo's expedition back into the everyday world. Urahara wasn't taking any chances in attracting any enemies, be they hollow, arrancar or someone much worse.

Ichigo saw how Urahara's eyes lingered on his wrist but in that moment he didn't really care. He never imagined how good it would feel to get out of that stuffy little shop, to feel the wind on his face again. He hadn't even realised how the world outside had changed while he had been away, the seasons slipping from summer to autumn, the leaves dying off to soon be replaced with new buds of life. He couldn't help but feel that this was an appropriate time for his reintroduction to life. And as he regarded the older man before him it was difficult to imagine a more perfect moment.

He had convinced Urahara to adorn some more appropriate clothing for their trip out amongst the humans, and he was glad that he had insisted upon the more modern outfit. He didn't even know that Urahara owned such clothing, and the sight of him dressed in something other than those traditional green robes was almost as impressive as the sight of him without any clothes at all. His baggy green trousers were replaced by fitted dark jeans, his wide necked shirt and robes switched out with a loose fitting beige shirt unbuttoned at the neck and a dark blazer jacket that hung open and unbuttoned despite the slight chill in the air. Ichigo had even convinced him to ditch the hat, and though his blonde bangs still hung around the sides of his face and dipped down between his glittering, mercurial eyes, his hair had been scraped back into a little ponytail by Ururu as they sat having lunch, and (as much as he loved running his fingers through that soft blonde hair) Ichigo thought that he actually might like it better that way, being able to see the curve of his jawline and neck more clearly than before. With the soft sunlight falling down upon his pale skin he was, in a word, stunning, and Ichigo felt quite drab beside him, dressed merely in a pair of his dark blue jeans which were still slightly too big for him after his weight loss in captivity, a slightly too long black V-neck t-shirt that he'd borrowed from Urahara's civilian clothing cupboard (who knew that ex-shinigami captains had such a thing?) and topped off with a grey sports jacket half zipped up and open at the chest which hung off his frame a little too much as though to further highlight his muscle loss.

'What?' Urahara addressed the curious expression that hung on Ichigo's face as those bright eyes bore into him.

'I was just thinking, you look good in those clothes.' The younger man smiled softly, feeling a little embarrassed at being caught staring.

'Oh really?' Urahara mused as he plucked at the sleeves of his jacket. 'I feel so… human.'

'Well you look good.' Ichigo laughed slightly at him as he approached.

'So do you.' Urahara chuckled at the grimace that crossed Ichigo's face. 'No really, you look… happy.'

'I told you, I am.' Ichigo smiled shyly up at him. 'You're here aren't you?' Urahara felt some kind of warmth flood his chest at Ichigo's innocent words, and replied softly as he took the boy's warm hand in his own.

'Always.'

They walked together hand in hand through the crisp afternoon, Ichigo blushing slightly at the looks cast their way by passers-by, Urahara paying no heed at all to the humans that they passed, keeping alert for any sense of approaching danger. They had no set destination, and Urahara simply allowed Ichigo to follow his feet towards the inevitable journey's end.

Ichigo looked almost surprised when they arrived at the Kurosaki Clinic, his home, as though he hadn't even been meaning to end up there. He looked up at the sign over the entrance and swallowed hard as he followed the path all the way to the front door. As Ichigo tried the door handle Urahara almost breathed a sigh of relief when it didn't open, because he knew that there was no-one home, he could sense fresh remnants of the presence of Ichigo's family but no living breathing bodies.

'Dad must be picking the girls up from school.' Ichigo chewed on his bottom lip as he spoke. 'He never used to do that, not before…' Urahara understood the unspoken words just as he could sense the unease in his voice, the guilt over the fear that he'd put his father under and the sadness and confusion of the young girls who just wanted to know when their big brother would come home. He squeezed Ichigo's hand gently as he fumbled in his pocket for a set of keys.

'Where did you get those?' Ichigo frowned slightly as Urahara unlocked his front door. The key clicked softly as the lock released.

'Your father.' He murmured as he pushed the door open. 'We both knew you'd make your way back home eventually.'

Ichigo paused as the door swung open, suspended in the threshold of his home, as if by entering he would break some spell that hung in the air. In the human world it had barely been five weeks since he'd stepped foot in his house but to him it had been nearly four months, most of that time spent in the dark hole of the hollow world. He'd been suspended in limbo ever since, out of time and out of place, and stepping over the threshold would cause real human life, his time, to start moving again.

Urahara waited patiently, he knew what coming home meant to Ichigo. And once he'd summoned the courage to let go of the shopkeeper's hand he stepped along over the threshold, into the hallway of his home. Urahara stepped in softly behind him and closed the door, blocking out the rays of sunlight that bathed the hallway in orange. Ichigo didn't seem to notice, didn't even turn back to look at him as he made his way down the hall, eyes drifting past the kitchen and living room that was empty of the brightness of his family. With the front door shut all sound from outside seemed to cease, the silence of the empty house reverberating all around them. Silently, as though under a spell, Ichigo reached the end of the hallway and continued up the stairs, trailing his fingers along the polished handrail as he went. Urahara followed slowly behind him, he knew where he was going; up the stairs, first room on the left.

Ichigo's bedroom.

When Urahara caught up with him he was sitting on his bed, staring out through the window. The blonde stood in the doorway, watching him watching nothing in particular. The blinds were open, casting the fading sunlight of the afternoon across the room, lighting up the figure sitting on the bed.

Urahara sat and watched Ichigo sitting on the bed, his heart heavy with guilt. It had been so long since he had dared to let another into his heart, and he would never have imagined that a rouge human-turned-shinigami-turned-vizard could have broken through those barriers. He was bright and young and dangerous and everything that Urahara knew he should stay away from, (not to mention the physical and spiritual age difference, and the fact that he was the son of one of his dearest friends.) But there was no way he could leave him now, even if he was still a flickering shadow of his former self. He was already caught in a spider's web of feelings for the boy and he felt a stab of something like guilt as he thought back to his conversation with Tessai earlier that day. Whilst picking up after lunch the two old friends had a rare moment alone together in the kitchen and Urahara had thought it best to talk to him on the matter of what he had stumbled upon in his bedroom.

'_Tessai, I know you know what's been going on,' Urahara had laughed wearily as he spoke, 'knowing you you've known it even longer than I have...' Tessai sighed and removed his glasses, cleaning them gently using the soft cloth of his tunic before speaking._

'_I'm not going to lecture you, as I know you're painfully aware of all the reasons that you two shouldn't be together… But it's been a long time coming and you might be right, I probably realised your feelings for him before you even did.' Urahara wasn't surprised; the ex-kidō captain had known him longer than anyone and had always been wonderfully astute on matters of the heart. (He remembered back in the day when Tessai was one of the few people in Soul Society who hadn't been expecting Urahara and Yoruichi to get married and produce little cat babies…) He continued, 'And I'm sure you think you know what you're doing. Just be certain that you're committed to this Urahara, because you're the only thing holding that kid together right now…' Tessai paused for a moment in his thoughts as something like a grin tipped the corner of his lips. 'And I would not like to be the one to face Isshin when he finds out…'_

It was then that Ichigo spoke, cutting into his thoughts, asking a question as though it had just occurred to him.

'Hey, what day is it? I've lost track.' He murmured softly from the bed where he sat.

'Me too…' For the life of him Urahara couldn't keep track of such trivial things as that, especially at his age where time was relative and meaningless. 'I think it's a Tuesday, but I could be wrong.'

'Mmm.' Ichigo hummed in what could've been agreement or annoyance, but either way Urahara couldn't stand to be apart from him much longer. Shaking off his doubts he crossed the room to the bed where Ichigo sat, sliding in behind him so that his back rested against the wall as he put his arms around the quiet redhead. Ichigo relaxed into his arms, his back slouched so his head rested against the older man's chest and the soft spikes of his hair tickled his chin. The comfortable silence was broken by a soft _pitter patter_ as rain began to fall outside the window.

'I can't go back to how I was.' Ichigo broke the silence again as he shifted slightly in Urahara's arms. 'There's no way back. So it's no use dwelling upon the past. I have to move forward, just like I've always done, right?' He didn't look towards Urahara for an answer, and the blonde remained silent, letting him get his thoughts in order, only responding by means of hugging him tighter to his chest. After a moment Ichigo continued, 'As long as I still have them, the people I was fighting for, my family, my friends, and you… I'll be alright. As long as I can be here with everyone, I can move forward with them.'

'Ichigo…' Urahara whispered, squeezing his hand gently in his own. He didn't quite know how to respond, in all his quick wittedness he was struck dumb for a moment as both of them realised that, despite everything that had happened, and everything that would ever happen, Ichigo would be alright. The rain was still falling gently outside, the sun still shining through the glistening drops as they fell through the autumn air. They sat together in silence for some time, Urahara savouring the feeling of having Ichigo safe in his arms as they both looked dreamily out at the rain falling softly outside. And as he watched the drops fall Ichigo could feel that, after the longest time, the rain had finally stopped inside his head.

'It feels like everything is getting back to normal…' He murmured, his voice quiet despite the still silence of the afternoon.

'I wonder…' Urahara mused softly as he pressed a kiss to the top of Ichigo's head.

It was then that the spell of the afternoon was broken with the sound of the front door being pushed open, and uncertain voices floating up the stairs towards them.

'The door was open… I'm sure I locked it, unless… Ichigo? Are you here?' The low mumble of his father was unmistakable, and Ichigo couldn't contain the smile that split his face at the sound.

'Yeah Dad, we're upstairs.' He called down to them, and in a split second they heard the sounds of his twin sisters racing up the stairs towards them. A moment later they appeared in the doorway, both pausing for a moment as though they disbelieved the sight before them. The room that had sat cold and empty since Ichigo's departure was lit by the orange glow of the sun and there, where he belonged, sat their brother on his bed.

'Ichi-nii… YOU'RE HOME!' Yuzu almost squealed with excitement, neither of the girls even seeming to find it curious that their brother was nestled in the arms of another man. They wasted no time in throwing themselves upon him, even the normally stoic Karin was beaming with joy and Yuzu had tears in her delicate eyes at the joy of the homecoming of their big brother.

Urahara disentangled himself from the huddle of siblings just in time for Isshin to appear in the doorway, beaming from ear to ear but resisting the urge to jump upon his son as was his usual way of greeting. His smile was soft as he saw his children re-united where they belonged, and for once he was savouring the moment instead of barging right into it. He beamed as he turned to his old friend,

'You brought him home, just like you promised. Thank you Kisuke.' And Urahara didn't have the heart to tell him that it wasn't permanent, that Ichigo would have to return with him later and remain resident at the shop for the foreseeable future (for the safety of himself and his family, and not just out of Urahara's selfish desire to be alone with him). So later they would return to the shop, and later they would have to deal with the Aizen situation and Ichigo's place in the war. But the moment was rare and beautiful, and Urahara would not bring himself to ruin it.

Instead he placed his hand on Isshin's shoulder and smiled back at him. Something unspoken passed between the two friends and Isshin's grin grew wider. In two quick strides he crossed the room to grapple with Ichigo in a bear hug as his sisters laughed and smiled and Ichigo lit up from the inside out. His eyes sparkled with joy as he fought off his father, laughed and put his arms around his sisters, and when he looked up at Urahara the happiness that shone in his face was pure and genuine, and the shopkeeper though that he'd never seen anything so beautiful as the love that he saw and felt in that moment.

'I'm home.'

* * *

In the world of endless night, the black and white devil was stirring, moving swiftly down the moonlit marble hallways, white robes swishing by his sides as he smiled his cruel smile and mused to his right hand man.

'Everything is in place, I'd say it's about time we retrieved my pet, don't you think?'

The fox's smile split the night, and enveloped in the warm glow of his family, a cold shiver passed through Ichigo's body as the skin of his cheek began to itch again…

* * *

_A/N: Ooh watch out Ichigo! Yes I did just have to ruin all the fluff at the end there, sorry. On the other hand, i've ben updating at lightning speed (seriously, its only been three days since the last chapter!) this month so no complaining :P_

_(Now forgive me if I sound pedantic, but I would really appreciate reviews. Because of the way ffnet is set up reviews are the only way that writers can gauge interest in a particular story so basically, the more reviews I get, the more kicks up the backside I get to get on with the next chapters. And as usual your input is very useful, even if it's just to say if you loved (or hated!) this chapter, I'll even take on board criticism (as long as it's constructive)…)_

_Hopefully there won't be long until I get the next chapter up, I have exams at the end of the week but after that I'll have lots of time to spend on more interesting things, like this!_

_See you all with the next update! :3_


	15. They Can't Save Us Now

**Chapter 15: They Can't Save Us Now**

_They can't save us now  
'Cause we're lost and won't be found  
We can scream so loud  
But they can't save us now_

_How can hearts so young feel so much pain?_  
_They can't ever save us now_

The candles were burning low in the Urahara Shoten that night. The light cast by the dying flames flickering over the two bodies entwined on the bed, dancing across burnished skin. Ichigo yawned contently against the older man's skin as his eyes slipped shut, his consciousness fading in the warmth of his arms as he gave into the lethargy that always gripped his body after the furious rush of lovemaking. Urahara did likewise, a soft smile curling the corners of his lips as he felt Ichigo relax against him, and sinking into the touch of each other's skin they both fell into the darkness of sleep in a matter of minutes.

One of the few candles still burning in the room reached the end of its wick and snuffed itself out with a soft noise as the last remnants of the older man's consciousness drained away, his last hazy thought being that the warm sources of light may no longer be needed to banish Ichigo's night terrors.

At least so long as he was holding him in his arms.

* * *

For a moment Ichigo wasn't quite sure what had awoken him. All he knew was that his eyes had snapped open, his body on high alert as though expecting an attack, the way he had used to awaken from each nightmare before he had begun sharing a different bed with a different man. Certainly there was nothing amiss in the fading light of the room, three candles still burning brighter than ever as they seared their way down towards their endings. For a moment he wondered whether he had been woken by thirst or one of the misplaced noises of the night, for he didn't recall having a nightmare, which was perhaps unusual in itself. Then he woke up enough to realise what he was feeling, what had awoken him from his warm slumber. A cold chill that gripped the air, the shiver that latched onto his spine as he realised that all the warmth had drained from the room while he slept.

Another candle reached its end and burned out into the vessel that held it, the soft hiss of its demise sounding much louder than it should have in the darkening room. Ichigo's heart began to race, his mouth suddenly felt dry as a bone and his breath caught in his throat when he tried to swallow.

'_You're being ridiculous.' _He tried to chastise himself, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he told himself, _'It's the middle of a freezing autumn night, of course it's going to be cold. It's nothing.' _But his reassurances did little to still the frantic pace of his heart. Pulling the bed sheets back up over his body he burrowed as far down into the false security of the bed as he could, wrapping himself in the sheets like a child as he snuggled up close to the older man, taking comfort in his presence. Urahara was the sensitive one, if there was anything amiss in the vicinity Ichigo knew that he would be the one sitting up and gazing sharply out into the night, not the young shinigami who was well aware that his own reiatsu sensing skills were about as sharp as a butter knife.

But even the touch of the shopkeeper's pale skin lacked the usual warmth. And the cold air was creeping under the bed sheets now, freezing him to the bone like fear itself and Ichigo knew that he couldn't take it any longer, even if it was just the first chill of the winter creeping its way into the shop he couldn't stand it a moment longer.

'Kisuke…' The words caught in his throat for a moment, escaping in a strangled gasp as he tried to bite back the panic in his gut. 'Kisuke! Wake up!' But he did not.

Now terror started to set in. Urahara was a light sleeper at the best of times, and was intentionally acute to any disturbance in Ichigo's sleeping pattern. At the first sign of distress he would normally be up like a shot, cradling the boy in his arms until the nightmares fled. But now he would not wake up, even when Ichigo started physically tugging at his hand, shaking his shoulders, his voice rising in pitch and panic. Still he slept on, chest rising and falling as though he was in a mere light slumber instead of the sleep of the dead. Ichigo felt the cold air grip his throat like a vice and suddenly it was difficult to breathe.

Falling back upon the bed, he covered his eyes with his hands, screwing his eyelids tightly shut, hoping to any god that this was just another dream, that the cold air invading his space like ghost hands was just a part of the twisted, fucked up imagination of his nightmares. Hoping that any moment Urahara would shake him from this world with his warm hands and gentle smile. But the hands that closed around his wrists were cold and harsh, and the breath that ghosted his neck was as freezing as the night. There was a weight on his chest that had not been there before, something more than just the heavy grip of fear, and someone was pulling his hands away from his eyes, pinning him by his wrists into the bed beneath them. The spell of fear that paralyzed Ichigo's senses was shattered as the third candle burned out with a hiss loud enough to startle his body into trying to move.

His eyes flew open and the terror coiling in his stomach flooded his system with white hot fear as he found himself staring straight into the pits of hell that were unmistakeable as the eyes of Aizen Sosuke.

'Hello pet.'

He couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Couldn't think and could barely breathe as the chemicals of sheer panic invaded his body. His bright eyes widened further than was comfortable, his lips frozen, slightly parted as though his last breath had just escaped his body. That face, that terrible face, was so close to his own. Those dark eyes that he had hoped so desperately to never see again were boring into his very soul, consuming what was left of his sanity. He could feel the beat of the traitor's cold blood in the hands that gripped his wrists so tightly, the sickening familiar feeling of the bastard's skin against his own. All he could see was those terrible eyes, everything else seemed to stop, the world fading into oblivion around him as those pits burned deep into him. And then Aizen smirked, a demonic grin splitting the surface of his face, drawing Ichigo's attention away from his eyes. The outside world flooded back, everything stared moving again.

And Ichigo started fighting back. He made a strangled noise of rage, not quite a scream, but more frenzied than a roar, and he pushed up against his captor with all the strength that he could muster. He barely moved an inch. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that to struggle would be futile but it was all he could do, he could no longer bear to sit back and let Aizen do what we wished, if all he could do was struggle and swear and scream and shout then that was what he would do. Aizen raised an amused eyebrow at the struggling, hissing teenager beneath him as he flipped him with a grasp of steel, pushing him face down into the bed, grabbing his arm and twisting it round behind him until he cried out in pain, pinning him using the pressure applied to his arm and the weight of his cold body.

'Is that any way to greet your master?' He hissed into Ichigo's ear, cold breath assaulting his skin as he pressed him roughly down into the bed.

'Fuck you!' Ichigo swore loudly before crying out in pain as his arm was twisted almost to the breaking point.

'Don't tempt me.' The lord purred cruelly as he grasped Ichigo's chin with strong fingers. He chuckled softly in amusement when Ichigo attempted to twist away from his touch, despite the pain that he knew it would be causing him to do so. The harsh smile on his face faded into a grimace of half anger, half mocking pleasure when he realised that the shinigami was not just flinching from his grasp but also moving to gaze pleadingly at the other man lying next to him, still seemingly sleeping peacefully.

'He can't see us pet.' He smirked against the sensitive skin of Ichigo's neck as he gave his arm another sharp tug, feeling his body contort in pain beneath him. 'He can't save you now…' He whispered as his tongue darted out to taste the skin of his neck, savouring the shudder of Ichigo's skin at his touch. 'You're mine.' Ichigo's eyes slid shut as his face contorted in an expression of hopelessness and pain. He choked back the lump in his throat and the frustrated tears prickling at the corner of his eyes as he growled,

'What do you want with me?'

'What do I want… What do you think?' Aizen tangled his fingers in thick, red hair, tugging sharply so that Ichigo's head snapped back and he smothered a cry of pain. 'I want my property back. Someone else has been playing with you, eh pet? I can't allow that.'

'Bastard!' Ichigo grit his teeth against the pain and tried to shut his eyes, but found it nearly impossible to take his eyes off Urahara, knowing full well that this might be the last time he ever got to see that face. The shopkeeper slept on soundly, and Ichigo knew without asking that he would be dreaming in an illusionary world, where even if he awoke the redhead would still be cradled safely and soundly in his arms, where the candles would still be burning bright and the room would be comfortably warm. He never wanted anything more than to be in that world with him, even if everything there was untrue. Even if being held in his arms was a dream he would never want to awake again. But he was awake, and in his cold reality the traitor was hissing in his ear.

'Your _human_ body has been untouched by any but him, correct?' Ichigo's heart leap into his throat at the implication in Aizen's words. 'It is the last thing that you share…' Ichigo found himself flipped onto his back, and those eyes were upon him again as Aizen straddled him, pinning him to the bed by his wrists. He didn't think that it was possible that he could feel any more fear than he did in that moment, but he was quickly proven wrong when the lord smirked, 'I'll take that from you too.'

'No!' Ichigo's protest caught in his throat as his mouth was smothered with freezing lips, a vicious kiss with more teeth than was comfortable, nauseatingly familiar as a cool tongue snaked past his protesting lips, for the first time tasting the physical body of the substitute shinigami.

With little effort the lord forced Ichigo's hands above his head, rough edged illusionary rope appearing from nowhere to bind his wrists to the slatted headboard of the bed. He struggled in vain against the bonds, against the body that pressed down against him, gaining only further pain as the rope twisted and burned, leaving raw, red marks upon his skin. That piercing mouth latched onto his neck again and Ichigo hissed in disgust at the too familiar feeling of sharp teeth scraping his skin, biting into his neck hard enough to bruise, to leave traces of his decay upon the teenager's skin.

'Get off of me!' He bit out a protest as he kicked out, feeling his knee connect ineffectually with Aizen's chest. He was surprised at the speed at which his head snapped to the side with the force of a slap, his skin stinging with pain before he even had time to cry out.

'You seem to have forgotten your training.' Aizen growled as he gripped Ichigo's chin with long fingers, forcing him to look back into those hellish eyes, the pale face split with a sadistic grin. He ran a cold hand along the bare skin of Ichigo's chest, feeling the renewing muscles spasm and contract beneath his fingers, the rough pads of his fingers twisting against the sensitive buds of the younger man's nipples as he leaned in close enough so that his face was within inches of Ichigo's. 'I'll just have to remind you.'

'Stop…' The shinigami had to shut his eyes in the face of those burning dark orbs, writhing uncomfortably beneath the touch, cursing himself for being so weak, for allowing this to happen again. He choked back a gasp that rose in his throat as he felt sharp teeth latch onto his earlobe, applying just the right amount of pressure as the traitor rolled the soft flesh against his tongue. He shivered in disgust as the ex-captain's calloused fingers caressed the insides of his thighs, shutting his eyes tighter than ever as he tried to squirm away from the touch, trying and failing to kick out against the cold body that held him in place. 'No… Please don't do this…' He gasped, pleading now for the torment to stop. The heat burning in his stomach was sickening, the cold weight of the man torturing him with forced desire made bile of disgust rise in his throat and despite himself he wished with all his heart that someone would come along and save him. Torn between wanting the man next to him to help him and hoping desperately that he would not awake, would not witness what was being done to him, to his Ichigo. He never ever wanted Urahara to see him like this, he would rather die than have to face that, to watch the light die in his eyes as he realised that he had failed to protect him. He took on so much for Ichigo's sake and he could not bear the thought of the blonde blaming himself for Ichigo's own weakness.

'Why?' He whimpered, his bravado failing him as cold hands tugged his underwear away, and he realised that nothing he could do would stop what was happening. 'Why are you doing this to me?'

'Because I can, pet.' Aizen stroked his damp cheek mockingly gently as he spoke in that false lover's tone of concern. 'The sooner you accept that, the sooner you give in, the easier this will be on you.' He purred as that icy hand wrapped around Ichigo's manhood, fondling his arousal which was quickly hardening despite his mind's protests to the contrary.

'Never…' Ichigo choked out as he grit his teeth against the cold sensations coming from below his waist, trying and failing to block them out. Trying and failing to remove himself from the situation, to ignore the part of his mind that was screaming at him, to bite back his horror and mortification at the fact that his worst enemy was about to force himself upon him again while the man he loved lay sleeping next to him. 'I'll never give into you!' He spat, the meaningless defiance being all that he could do now.

'And that's why.' Aizen chuckled as he watched a barrage of emotions flicker across Ichigo's face. 'It wouldn't be any fun if you did.' One hand racked fingernails down Ichigo's hips as he stroked him teasingly slow, eliciting strangled gasps that the shinigami did his best to choke back.

'It's just an illusion…' Ichigo muttered to himself, willing his body to break free from the bonds that knew weren't real. 'It's not real… move!' Aizen laughed again, the cruel sound cutting through the cold night air.

'It doesn't matter if your mind is aware that it's not real…' He murmured as he clamped a strong hand over Ichigo's mouth to stifle any protests, slipping the hand that had been stroking the teen round behind him, pressing two fingers against him until they pushed inside and Ichigo's face contorted in fear and pain, cries that he could not control muffled by the hand covering his mouth. Aizen continued speaking as he started to move inside of the shinigami, ignoring the writhing of the body beneath him. 'Because your fear keeps you from even hoping to stand on equal ground with me.' He used his fingers to stretch him open until he was satisfied, withdrawing both the fingers from his body and the hand from over his mouth. 'You're scared of me…' He purred as he started removing his clothes, the fear flooding Ichigo's system strangling his vocal cords as he watched the unfolding scene in horror, knowing that even if he could scream it would not change a thing. The traitor's eyes burned furiously as he pushed Ichigo's legs apart and gripped his hips in a bruising grasp, grinning coldly as he purred, 'And you should be.'

Ichigo remembered how to scream then. A heartfelt cry of horror and pain as Aizen pushed roughly into him, the sickening feeling of being so full and torn sending a spasm of pain to rip through his body as he started to move harshly into the fragile body of the substitute shinigami.

'Why do you think I put so much energy into destroying you?' Aizen hissed as he thrust deeper, harder into the unprepared boy. 'A whole spirit can never become a demon, in order to make you hollow I first had to rip away all traces of hope, of love. But you are far too resistant. No more…' His dark eyes flickered to the sleeping figure next to them, drawing Ichigo's attention to his lover as he purred sadistically, 'If I kill Kisuke Urahara will you finally submit to me?'

'No…!' Ichigo couldn't breathe, that terrible threat stealing the very air from his lungs more than the heavy body pressing down upon him, more than the pain shooting up his spine and the disgust that drowned his veins along with the occasional cruel burst of the pleasure that flickered through the torment. He couldn't find any breath with which to retort except to gasp as he writhed in a mix of agony and desire, tears blurring his vision as he choked on his begging tongue. 'Please… I'll do anything, just don't...'

'Make your choice.' Aizen smirked viciously as his thrusts became harder and faster, moving with an intensity that made Ichigo arch his back into the bed in pain, biting his lip to keep himself from crying out at the rough treatment. He could feel warm blood dripping down his legs, onto the bedsheets, coating Aizen's shaft to give much needed lubrication as he slammed deeply into the teenager, striking that bundle of nerves that sent fire shooting through Ichigo's veins and fuelled the heat pooling in his stomach. Ichigo couldn't hold back the cries that turned to moans as his traitorous, masochistic body found a way of feeling ecstasy through the pain. He shut his eyes against the truth of reality, wishing and wishing for the torment to be over. Aizen frowned as the boy turned his sight from him, responding by pulling nearly all the way out before snapping his hips forward sharply, gaining another pained cry from the shinigami beneath him as frightened brown eyes snapped open. Before he could even catch a breath the traitor was moving harshly again, hitting that spot inside him that made fire explode inside his stomach, those sharp teeth scraping his neck and Ichigo knew that if Aizen kept this up he would lose himself, just go insane and fall deeper back into that black pit, never to return.

The light went out in his eyes. And then it was over. Ichigo sobbed out half smothered moans as he felt the traitor thrust into him one final time, shuddering in disgust at the hot burn of thick fluid filling him. His body was wound like a spring, and as Aizen pulled out he couldn't help but whimper, his skin trembling violently. The ex-captain grinned cruelly at him as he felt the boy's body shudder at the loss of the dreadful friction and he took advantage of Ichigo's dazed state to capture his lips in another bruising mockery of a kiss. Ichigo couldn't even find the strength to protest, and when Aizen pulled back he smirked at the expression on his face, his eyes wide and dull, cheeks marked with tear tracks, his mouth and neck thoroughly bruised from the harsh treatment.

'Well pet?' He murmured as he cradled Ichigo's face in his hands, mocking hands wiping the drying tears from his face. 'Are you going to continue to misbehave…' His eyes flickered momentarily to Urahara, still sleeping unknowingly in the bed beside them and Ichigo understood the dark meaning in that gesture. 'Or are you going to come along with me like a good boy?'

'I…' Ichigo tried not to choke on his words, on his own betrayal. 'I'll cooperate. Just leave him, leave them all, out of this.' This was the only way to make sure that Urahara was safe; he knew all along that Aizen would never let him go, never let him be with his loved ones again. But he could bear it, he had done it before and he would do it again if it would keep them safe. But his heart hurt more dreadfully than before and he had to blink back furious tears that prickled in the corners of his eyes.

'That's a good boy.' Aizen rose from the bed, swiftly pulling his robes back around his cold form. 'There's just one last thing to take care of.' He turned, suddenly fully clothed again, and touched his hand to Ichigo's chest, pressing his fingers against the skin hard enough to bruise, more than hard enough to cause pain. Then suddenly his fingers pushed into his chest, past his skin and bones to reach right into his body cavity. Ichigo cried out as he waited for the pain of being penetrated by his fingers to register, but the agony did not come. Instead Aizen's hand passed through his flesh and grabbed onto something deep inside of him. And then he felt the pain, the ache of having his soul ripped forcefully from his body. Ichigo's consciousness was transferred to his spirit form as he fell upon the floor, tossed there uncaringly by the cruel lord. He struggled into a sitting position to see what was going on upon the bed, but found it difficult even to move so slightly. For a moment he registered the fact that he was now fully clothed in his robes, and though he was grateful for that small mercy, he was further panicked by the notable absence of Zangetsu.

From his weary position on the floor he could do little but watch as Aizen brushed his fingers against the blade of his zanpakutō, muttering something unintelligible as he did so. Ichigo's confusion only lasted for a second, horrific realisation setting in as his corporal body began to bleed. Aizen had opened up a wide gash in his chest, and now his body was leaking crimson life upon the white of the bed sheets, pooling on the floor and dripping upon the pale skin of the sleeping shopkeeper.

'What did you do to me?' He gasped, his mind reeling as he watched what seemed to be his own death. He'd never seen so much blood…

'Just a little smokescreen my pet.' Aizen turned to smile strangely at him, rising swiftly from the bed to keep the crimson from staining his white robes.

'Am I… dead?' Ichigo felt strangely numb, as though all the fear that his body was capable of producing had already been burned up, leaving him in the smouldering embers of emotional limbo as he stared at his dead body.

'Of course not,' Aizen looked at him like he was an idiot. 'That would severely inconvenience both you and I. This is merely a little surprise for your partner to find when he awakes, something to keep your friends distracted from any more little rescue attempts.'

'…They'll think I'm dead.' Realisation began to sink in. 'My friends, my family…' Ichigo whispered dazedly, unable to tear his eyes away from the red leaking from the gashes in his skin.

'Oh come now pet.' Aizen almost tutted at the stunned redhead on the ground. 'For all intents and purposes, you will be dead.' He knelt down beside Ichigo, running his fingers through the burnt orange of his hair, smiling maliciously as he spoke. 'At least you will be once I'm through with you.' Ichigo just blinked at him, weariness heavy on his face. He suddenly felt so tired, too drained to struggle any further, too weak to fight, like a bird with a broken wing waiting for death he shut his eyes to quell the tears that came with the cruel acceptance of his fate. Aizen stood suddenly, pulling Ichigo up by his arm to stand upon shaky legs. 'Now come along,' he muttered, 'time is precious now… the hour is drawing near.' Ichigo didn't even want to ask what Aizen mean by that last remark, knowing that even if he did he was hardly likely to receive an answer.

'At least let me… say goodbye.' He muttered, casting his eyes down towards the floor, unable to bring himself to look at Aizen, the illusion of his dead body and least of all at the blonde shopkeeper still sleeping peacefully upon blood stained sheets.

'Quickly now,' Aizen sighed, a curious expression on his face, 'before you force me to drag you from here by your hair.' His face twisted into another of those cruel mocking smiles as he touched Ichigo's cheek, gently turning his head up to face him. 'But we're past that stage now aren't we?'

'Yes… Aizen-sama.' Ichigo muttered, the familiar cold, dead light creeping back into the eyes that had only just begun to shine so brightly once again.

'Good boy.' The ex-captain smirked as he released his grasp of Ichigo's face. 'Now make it quick.'

Standing over the sleeping man upon the bed Ichigo could feel his heart crack and shatter like ice. The cold that enveloped the room crept underneath his skin, icing over his bones and freezing his lifeblood, reaching the frail organ of his heart and enveloping it with frost. His lover looked so peaceful, so content as he slept on in the dream world where Ichigo was curled up beside him and they were happy and content in the warmth of unspoken love. His pale hair fell down across his paler skin, thick eyelashes barely fluttering above the slight dark circles that marked the half circles beneath his eyes. There were small flecks of blood on his cheek, dark red droplets marking the perfect curve of his cheekbone underneath flawless skin. He was sure that that image would forever be etched into his mind, the harmony of his features haunting him for as long as he had left to live.

Ichigo ran the pads of his fingers gently across his lover's stubble peppered jawline, his skin trembling at the touch. His cold lips were bruised and bloody as they melted against the warm softness of the shopkeeper for the last time, lips parting in a whisper as they pressed so lightly against Urahara's.

'_I think I always loved you. I'm sorry.' _This time Ichigo did not choke on his words, did not betray the blade piercing the shard of ice that was his heart with every spoken word. And as he lifted his head the tears did not spill from his eyes because his teeth were digging into his bottom lip hard enough to bring forth fresh blood and his nails bit into the rough skin of his palms to leave little red welts in the skin.

'How touching.' Aizen sneered as he came up silently behind Ichigo, fisting his hand in red hair. 'Remember his face, because you're never going to see it again.' He hissed viciously in the shinigami's ear.

Ichigo closed his eyes softly, knowing that there was no way he could ever forget.

It was the noise that made his eyes snap open again, that unforgettable sound of space and the dimensions ripping in two. The garganta opened its gaping mouth before them, so large that it threatened to swallow the entirety of the small bedroom.

Ichigo couldn't have struggled if he'd tried. Aizen grasped his arm with a steel grip, pulling him into the mouth of the devil's den without so much as a backward glance at the scene that he had left in what had previously been a warm, happy little bedroom. But Ichigo couldn't do anything but look back in agony at the life that he was leaving behind, his eyes and mind desperately capturing every detail of the cruel image as he was pulled back into hell. As the gaping maw closed around him so did the last flickering flame of hope that he held in his soul burn out as the blackness of eternal night closed in once again.

In the darkness, his heart died, and all he could feel was that cold, bruising grip on his arm.

And back in the bedroom of the Urahara Shoten, the spell was broken.

The atmosphere burst like a bubble, cold air flooding the room as the illusion was dispelled and the last candle flickered desperately and extinguished. Urahara sat bolt upright in the bed, his senses tingling like an electric shock, the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention as a horror of unknown origins swirled in the pit of his stomach. The room was dark, too dark, and as cold as an icebox. He could smell blood in the air, could taste it faintly upon his lips, and something else, the smell of sweat and fear.

The bed sheets were damp with thick, warm fluid.

At once he realised what had awoken him, his heart sinking so deep in his stomach that it would never again return. Ichigo's presence had disappeared, and left in the cold, darkness of the room was only an overwhelming trace of the bright shinigami, intermingled horribly with the darker, more terrible stain of a reiatsu that Urahara had hoped never to feel again.

The taste of blood lingered upon his lips.

With a shaking hand he groped for the lamp at the side of the bed, touching fingers to his lips as he whispered fearfully into the stillness of the room, asking a hesitant question that would forever go unanswered.

'Ichigo…?'

* * *

_A/N: ... DUN DUN DUUUN! Aizen's back! D: Sorry UraIchi fans.  
_

_Just a few words today, this took longer than expected but I think it turned out well, it's probably one of my favourites so far (poor Ichigo...)_

_Hope everyone enjoys this little Christmas Present (well at least for those of you in the US it's still Christmas, here in the UK it's been over for 2 1/2 hours already...)_

_I hope to get the next chapter out by the end of the year (unless I get distracted by my Assassin's Creed ffics again...) See you all soon!_


	16. The End Where I Begin

**Chapter 16: The End Where I Begin **

_Sometimes tears say all there is to say  
Sometimes your first scars won't ever fade away  
Try to break my heart, well it's broke  
Try to hang me high, well I'm choked  
Wanted rain on me, well I'm soaked  
Soaked to the skin…_

_It's the end where I begin; the end where I begin…_

'Why didn't yah jus' kill him?' The silver fox frowned out of the darkness, looking almost disappointed at the lack of actual bloodshed that had occurred upon the previous night. Aizen smiled back at him from his position of contemplation, staring out over the vast desert landscape that made up the view from his throne room, just as he had done on the night that Ichigo had first been dragged before him against his will, the night that his plans had been set in motion. Everything since then had been leading up to this night, everything had been running according to his plans and tonight would see them come to fruition. He smiled softly at his lieutenant through the permanent dusk as he wondered where to begin his explanation.

'There are a great many reasons why I allow Urahara Kisuke to continue breathing.' He smirked to himself, secure in his convictions of absolute power.

'But there are also many reasons that yah should'ah killed him.' Gin replied, his narrow eyes opening very slightly to peer questioningly at his lord.

'True. But, for now at least, he is of more use to me alive.' Gin clicked his tongue in irritation.

'Are yah ever going to share yer plans with me Sosuke, or are yah gonna just leave me in the dark like always?' The teasing edge to Gin's voice was the only thing that kept Aizen from growing angry at his inquiries. Nobody was allowed to question him, not even his second hand man, and this was something that Gin had learned very early on. Everybody was below Aizen and he shared his ideas only with those who he saw fit, and the number of these people was few and far between. It irritated the former captain to know that his lord considered Urahara Kisuke of all people to be more of a worthy opponent and confidant than Gin himself. He held no love for the man who had been labelled a traitor due to their actions, and could not understand why, even after all the trouble he had caused and the claims he had laid upon Aizen's favourite pet, the lord had seen fit to leave the irritating shopkeeper alive.

Aizen regarded Gin curiously for a moment, almost able to read the slight flickering of emotion across his face. For a moment it looked as though he was torn between laughter and anger, opting for the former as a sly smirk stole across his face.

'Urahara has, unintentionally of course, done more damage to Ichigo than I could ever have.' He spoke cryptically, leaving the other man even more puzzled than before.

'What do ya mean?' Gin questioned again, furrowing his pale brows in confusion.

'What I want is for Ichigo to be subservient, yes, but I need him to have broken by his own hands, to have willingly surrendered and become totally submissive to me.' He paused for a moment. Gin looked at him perplexingly, but was smart enough to keep quiet until he continued. 'This is not something I could have achieved on my own; I needed something more powerful than fear or hatred…'

'Yah mean…' Gin almost felt silly saying the word in the company of his lord, casting aside the connotations of long blonde hair it conjured up almost painfully in his mind. '_Love_?'

'Precisely.' Aizen's upper lip curled in a sneer at the mention of the word as he turned to stare back out of the window. 'Everything that Ichigo does is out of love and a strong need to protect, and now I have turned that immense desire to serve me. Rather than having the broken, defiant and ultimately useless shell of the boy, which is all I would have achieved had I killed Urahara, I needed to have him betray the man he loved and come to serve me of his own violation. I need him strong, not broken, as it is he can't even materialise his zanpakuto.'

'But he's never gonna serve yah, not with the same passion that he has for his comrades.' Gin only half understood what Aizen was getting at, but he thought he was beginning to understand bits and pieces of the end game.

'Not as he is, no.' Aizen paused again, and though Gin could not see his face he knew that it would be split with a cruel smile as he continued speaking. 'But once the final stage is completed, he won't even remember that Urahara Kisuke, and indeed the rest of his loved ones, ever existed.'

'The final stage… You mean, when yah turn him into an arrancar.' Gin's heart sunk a little as he realised what Aizen was planning, and he wasn't entirely sure why. 'Hollowfication.'

'Yes.' Aizen turned around swiftly to face his subordinate again, leaning back casually against the balcony railing 'I will strip away his memories, and what he shall be left with is base desire and instinct. Hollows have no feelings, they cannot love. But even without the emotions as fuel, his wishes and needs will still be there, ingrained in his soul. Most importantly of all, the desire to serve me will still be there, and it will be stronger than any other, because it was the one that was ultimately born from his strongest emotion, love.'

'But won't he also retain the other feelings, the hatred and fear of you?' Gin had opened his eyes wider than before, as though he was having a hard time believing that the man he had chosen to follow could really be so cruel. A pointless question, he already knew just how far Aizen would go to achieve his goals, and to him both Ichigo and Gin alike were just pawns in his war against Soul Society.

'I should think so.' Aizen smiled that sadistic smile again, and Gin thought that he really didn't want to know what his cruel lord was thinking about. 'But it cannot hurt; a healthy dose of fear will only further underline his subconscious need to serve me.'

'So, yah let him escape, let him go back with Urahara, in order to set this all in motion?' Gin should have been having a hard time believing that this whole time everyone had really just been dancing in the palm of Aizen's hand, but in his heart he knew that this was really nothing surprising. Aizen really did think of everything and nothing would be allowed to play out without him manipulating it in some way. Aizen merely smiled back at him with that cold expression as he pushed his body up off the balcony and made for the door. Gin didn't even need to ask to know where he was going.

Aizen had almost reached the doorway when something else occurred to Gin, and he spoke again, his voice cutting through the silence of the night.

'Yah still could've killed him though; you just didn't have to let Ichi know about it.' Aizen stopped in the doorway, one hand resting against the frame as he turned his head back to smirk at his lieutenant.

'Again you are quite correct. However, I still have plans for Urahara Kisuke, he hasn't quite outlived his usefulness.' He turned his head back round, away from Gin and spoke one more word before leaving, exiting into the darkness that lay beyond the doorway. '_Yet_.'

So there was more that Aizen was not telling him. Somehow he knew that what had been revealed to him was merely the tip of the iceberg, and Gin couldn't do anything but smile, his grin cutting the gloom like a knife as he wondered to just what extent he was dancing in the palm of the lord's hand, and for how much longer he would allow himself to be manipulated and disregarded. His smile turned weary as he walked over to the balcony where Aizen had stood, running his long fingers along the cold steel of the railing as he stared out into the darkness, wondering if his lord could also see things that he could not, out there in the endless desert of the dead.

* * *

Cold steel bracelets encircled his wrists, pulling his hands up above his head and chaining him to the stone wall. The cool metal cut into his skin enough to leave a burning ache that spread its roots down through his otherwise numb arms. Tattered wide sleeved shinigami robes fell down around his head, the ragged edges tickling the bruised skin of his neck. He could taste blood in his mouth, a flavour that had become so familiar to him over the course of his life that now it barely registered. His body ached all over from the uncomfortable position he was forced to sit in, back braced against the cold, slippery marble wall as much as possible to stop himself from slipping down which would cause the bonds rubbing against his wrists to dig in further. The cold air of the hollow world crept under the slashes in his robes, caressing the cuts and bruises that marked his skin. He had been shivering so hard and so long that he had ceased to notice it. His split lip ached and still leaked a thin trail of blood from his soft flesh, and his head was starting to hurt from leaning against the hard wall. The moon hovered just outside of the window, almost mocking him with its freedom as it bathed him in rays, softly lighting the otherwise pitch black room.

Gone was the hospitality of a soft bed and attached bathroom, he would almost have laughed at that thought if not for the numbness that had set in behind his eyes. The spark of life within him was all but extinguished, his mind resigned to the unavoidable truth. He would never win, he could never have won, never had any hope to begin with. He was trapped in his fate ever since the moment Aizen had first laid eyes upon him atop Sōkyoku Hill, and nobody could save him, least of all himself.

He had always believed that there was always a point in defiance, in standing up for what you believed to be right, but now for the first time in his life he did not want to fight anymore. His legs were shaking so much that they couldn't hold him any longer; he was too weak to stand up again.

He didn't know what would happen from here; all he knew was that as long as he was here, Urahara would be safe. His family and his friends would be safe. They would be heartbroken, he knew, trying to block out thoughts of how their faces would contort in pain at the news of his death. But they would still breathe, they would live on, and eventually they would move on… eventually his lover would love again. A sharp pain assaulted his chest and he knew that it had nothing to do with his current physical state. But no tears were shed; there was no room for such sorrow within him anymore. He was numbing over, shielding himself from the great floods of pain that threatened to crash through his barriers should he give them the opportunity to do so.

Ichigo closed his eyes, hanging his head against the cold gloom, but knew that it was already too late, the darkness had already invaded his soul, and he was losing himself within it.

Footsteps echoed through from the guarded corridor outside his room, and even if he had been unable to sense the reiatsu he would still have recognised the owner of those steps. He had gotten far too used to the sounds of Aizen's quiet footsteps clicking against the cold marble floors of the palace. He didn't even bother opening his eyes, didn't look up as the ex-captain entered the cell like room where he had been chained ever since they had returned, his solitude being only interrupted by painful visits. It seemed like he had already spent eternity in the white room, when in fact it had been less than two days. Indeed back in the human world it had only been a matter of hours since Urahara had awoken in the cold room, confronted by his worst fears made flesh.

The lord crouched in front of him, bringing himself down to Ichigo's level. He gripped the tip of the shinigami's chin with strong fingers and forced his head upwards, eyelids opening slightly to frame drained brown irises.

'Come along now pet.' Aizen murmured as he ran the pad of his thumb along the swollen flesh of Ichigo's bottom lip. 'It's time.'

Ichigo responded by letting his eyes slip shut, barely feeling the touch of the lords skin to his own as he pressed down on his lip. And then the cold hands were gone along with the biting metal around his wrists. His body slumped forward onto Aizen, unable to support himself momentarily at the sudden loss of the bonds, and he couldn't even find the energy to push himself away from the other man. The blood started rushing back to his arms making them prickle unpleasantly, but Ichigo barely had time to feel this new sensation before his arms were forced behind his back, metal bracelets suddenly reappearing around his wrists to bind them behind his back. Aizen stood swiftly, gripping Ichigo's arm like a cold vice and pulling him up onto his feet. He struggled to maintain his balance, having difficulty coordinating his feet after sitting down for so long.

Aizen didn't pause, didn't wait for him to catch his balance, as he pulled him over to the doorway, out into the harsh artificial glare of the corridor lights. Blinking his eyes shut against the brightness Ichigo was totally disorientated, not that he would have known where they were going even if he was able to see perfectly. All he knew was that he was being pulled along bright corridors and endlessly twisting hallways until they reached an unknown destination. He was rudely shoved into a gloomy room that was entirely new to him, and if it wasn't for the fact that all the fear and emotion in his body had been shoved down somewhere deep inside of him he would have been taken aback by what he saw.

Sitting on various platforms around the edge of the dark room were arrancar. Espada, he could tell by the terrific amount of power flowing around the cavernous room and from the numbers of them he expected that all of them were present, and they were all staring at him. Some of them he recognised, the teal lined face and raven hair of the quarto who looked altogether uninterested by the proceedings, looking not at Ichigo but through him with those piercing green eyes, and the massive bulk of the particularly dim witted looking one that had attacked Orihime and Chad in Karakura Town. He felt hints of some familiar reiatsu but could not recognise the faces that the power may have belonged to, whenever espada came to the human world he always seemed to end up distracted by…

Grimmjow. Ichigo noticed him then, sitting on a ledge high above the ground, glowering down at him with an unreadable expression, as though he was trying to decide whether to attack or ignore the fallen shinigami. His sapphire irises gazed intensely down at the redhead, their eyes meeting in a clash of will. Grimmjow curled his lip at the look of utter defeat dulling the shinigami's brown eyes, but did not break the glare. Ichigo felt something crumble inside of him as he remembered what Grimmjow had said to him the last time they had clashed;

'_You're pathetic shinigami. You're not even worth killing anymore and you're definitely not worth fighting… I can't believe I considered you my rival.' _

He turned his head away at the memory, breaking the gaze. Grimmjow was right, he had always been right about him. And he must have looked so terribly pathetic in that moment, bruised, broken and bound at the mercy of all with blood running down his chin. But Ichigo was beyond caring, beyond everything as he teetered on the brink of oblivion. And oblivion, he had come to realise, was just what he was about to receive. He knew what was about to happen, and he knew that there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

'So this is it?' he croaked out wearily as he turned to face Aizen, his voice fading into the anticipation that hung heavy in the silence of the room.

'Yes pet.' Aizen took him by the arm again, moving him into the centre of the room where Ichigo knew he was about to become the main attraction. In the centre of the floor was a strange looking thing, an object not unlike a glass box, but he knew instinctively that it was less of a box and more of a cage. Shining at the forefront of the cage was a small glowing orb, and with a leap of his heart Ichigo immediately knew what it was. The hogyoku, the crumbling orb. The little bluish purple thing that had caused all of this, the creation unwittingly fashioned by two men, his greatest enemy and the man he loved, intellects working in harmony but at cross intentions. He felt a small pang of _something _deep inside of him as he thought that, but quickly pushed it deep into the recesses of his soul. Now was no time to break down.

His gaze flickered away from the orb and rested upon the silver haired fox and the blind ex-captain who stood expectantly by the cage. For some reason that he could never explain Gin's eyes slipped open ever so slightly as he approached, but instead of the usual mocking glint they were filled with something else, something softer, something like empathy? But surely that was impossible, just a trick of the light. He had already experienced Gin's sadistic side and there was no way that the same man who had carved up his flesh could be looking at him in that way. It must all be a part of his madness, of his mind shutting down as he slipped under.

'Do you remember what I told you,' Aizen murmured in his ear as they stood before the cage, 'about what would happen when I turned you?' Ichigo's expression did not change one iota as Aizen grasped his shoulders so tightly, holding him in his grasp with his back pressed against the traitor's chest.

He remembered.

'_All your precious memories will leave; you will have no emotion, no concept of love or companionship. You will have no friends, no comrades, no family, but you will not be as you are now. You will not be silent and broken; you will be finally be free. Ichigo, imagine it, no more pain, no more guilt or shame or such destructive emotion as love. You will fight no longer for those too weak to defend themselves, you will leave it all behind and fight only for me. And in your mind it will always have been that way, you will not remember this life and so, you will hurt no longer.'_

'_I… I don't want to forget. I don't want to lose them.'_

'Yes.' His voice was barely a whisper as he nodded, but it contained no fear. And neither did his heart as those cold fingers dug into his shoulder and icy breath laced his bruised skin. He could feel the strong muscles of the cruel lord's chest rising and falling against his back, but the feeling sparked off no disgust in his stomach. His fingertips were numb with the coldness that had enveloped his insides.

Then the hands curling around his shoulders pushed him forward, shoving him unceremoniously into the glass cage, the walls seemingly shifting around him as the purple orb hummed with power. The cage was too small to stand up in, and Ichigo was forced to his knees before Aizen, the metal bracelets around his wrists moving seemingly unassisted, pulling his arms up and out to his sides so that he was kneeling with his upper body splayed out like a martyr on a crucifix. The front of the cage snapped back into place, and directly in front of his face was the hogyoku, so close that he could have touched it if he were able to move.

'_I don't want to forget.'_

But he had to; for the sake of everyone and everything he loved. He would become a monster, and he could only trust in their strength to stand up where he had failed. Aizen turned from him and started to speak; addressing the creatures gathered in the room, but Ichigo wasn't listening. All sound seemed to fade out around him as the walls closed in, his vision obscured by glowing purple. He could hear nothing but the steady drumbeat of his heart thumping away in his ears, a strange serenity enveloping his body like narcotics flowing with every beat of his heart. He was painfully aware that every single beat may well have been his last, that soon the rhythm would end and the song fade out, but he faced the darkness without fear.

'_I don't want to lose them.' _

And suddenly he just wasn't there anymore.

Aizen turned back to face the cage, frowning slightly at the expression on Ichigo's face. He had expected distress, tears even, but the redhead kneeing before him had an expression altogether unlike anything he had seen on the boy's face before. It was almost like acceptance. His mocking words died on his tongue; with the boy looking like that he somehow knew Ichigo would give him no joy from any further torment. But he could never resist having the last word. He knelt down again, bringing himself down to Ichigo's eye level.

'Any last words pet?' Those brown eyes stared out at him, so fogged with dullness that they could've been dead. Aizen almost felt stunned as they stared straight through him, for the first time barely seeing him at all. Ichigo gave one slow blink and he spoke, his last words mumbled through cracked lips in what was barely a whisper, so low that Aizen himself had difficulty hearing him, the words that he managed to catch holding no meaning for him.

'… it feels as though the rain has stopped.'

The hairs stood up on the back of Grimmjow's neck as he watched the proceedings, a strange feeling coiling in the pit of his stomach that he could not place. As he glanced around the room he could tell that, with the exception of the emotionless Ulquiorra, not a single being in that room, arrancar or shinigami, was unaffected by Ichigo's stillness in that moment.

Aizen sneered at the kneeling shinigami as he stood, casting aside the slight unease that he had felt momentarily at the oddness of Ichigo's calm. But after all, how the boy acted now mattered not, for in a few moments he would cease to be. Aizen reached out his hand, fingers stretching towards the crumbling orb as power began to flow from it, seeping into his body as he began to manipulate the boundaries of Ichigo's soul. The power shot out like lightning bolts, surrounding Ichigo, bathing him in its cold light. Ichigo felt the power enter his body, his muscles tightening at the intrusion, hairs standing on end. His hollow was screaming somewhere as his inner world crumbled, his very soul being ripped apart and fouled. The sound of the rippling hogyoku cracked in his ears as it built to a crescendo, draining out both sound and light.

Then Ichigo closed his eyes. The cold palace melted away around him, and everything was warm again. And he just was not there, kneeling on the cold hard floor as the demon that was Aizen Sosuke ripped apart his soul. When the barriers fell and he began to change, becoming _something _else, he simply was not there.

_'Wake up Ichigo.'_

A warm nose was nuzzling his ear, soft breath curling against his neck. Through his eyelids seeped the warm golden light of the dawn and all around him was the warmth of another's skin in peaceful bed sheets. The voice that played in his ear was crystal clear and playful as it sang him awake. Ichigo felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. His eyes flickered open and all he could see was those beautiful grey irises and soft curling pale hairs.

_'Will it hurt?'_ he whispered softly, with no trace of fear in his voice. His lover smiled at him, his grey eyes shining with warmth as he ran his fingers along Ichigo's face.

_'I shouldn't think so.'_ The blonde murmured quietly, _'Just like falling asleep.'_

_'Will you stay with me?'_ Ichigo whispered against his fingers, making sure to etch into his memory every feeling of those calloused fingers against his skin. The other man stroked the soft skin of Ichigo's cheek with his thumb and whispered softly as he pressed their lips together,

_'Always…'_

Ichigo shut his eyes, and in that kiss everything began to fade. But Ichigo could still feel that hand squeezing his so softly as he was washed away. The song of his voice still reverberated in his ears. The beat of his heart was still there, just under the surface. The warmth of his skin smouldered in the darkness as his consciousness faded into blackness.

_'Hey Kisuke._' He whispered through his last breath. _'I wonder, can an arrancar be born out of pure love?'_

Then, finally, the flame of Ichigo's consciousness burned out as his soul shifted loyalties. And in the spiralling darkness of the void between worlds, that question faded out, unanswered.

And something new began to arise from the ashes.

_Now I'm alive, and my ghosts are gone_  
_I've shed all the pain I've been holding on_  
_The cure for a heart is to move along_  
_So move along_  
_So move along_

_What don't kill a heart_  
_Only makes it strong_

_It's the end where I begin._

**** END OF PART ONE ****

* * *

_A/N:_ _Fuck yes it's cliffhanger time. Did I mention that this was going to be a two part story? Well it is, Part Two will resume ASAP so keep watching this space. The reason for the 'two parts' will become clear when you guys see the next chapter. _

_Thanks for all the positive feedback on this story so far, you're brilliant, couldn't have got this far without you. Keep it up and i'll keep this up :)_

_Bonus points for those of you who understood where Ichigo's last words came from ('… it feels as though the rain has stopped.') You get, eh, a pat on the head. Enjoy._


	17. The World Spins Madly On

**Darkest Blue - Part 2**

"_Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires…" _(Francis de Rochefoucauld)

**Chapter 17: The World Spins Madly On**

'_Woke up and wished that I was dead  
With an aching in my head  
I lay motionless in bed  
I thought of you and where you'd gone  
and let the world spin madly on_

_I let the day go by, I always say goodbye  
I watch the stars from my window sill  
The whole world is moving and I'm standing still_

_The night is here and the day is gone  
And the world spins madly on…'_

Dawn was breaking late upon the horizon that day, as the seasons began to slip from autumn to winter, light growing weaker as days grew shorter. The dark ink of the dust was being washed away down the drain by impending daylight, the stars peppering the night sky extinguishing one by one above the rooftops. The morning rays crept through the curtain blinds, falling softly on the bed, bringing life to pale drained skin. And as they alighted upon closed lids the anaesthesia of sleep wore off in a painful instant.

His mouth was dry. His eyes creaked open, faded grey irises staring blankly up at the ceiling, heart sinking at the reality of the cold half of the bed. He'd never felt as alone as he did when he awoke each new morning, every day becoming more painful as the dreams wore off and cold reality set in.

Had it really only been a month that they'd spent together? A mere few weeks that should have faded into something less than a speck of his lifetime yet had seemed to stretch out forever, the memory of those days now constantly burning at the forefront of his mind.

Had it really already been two months since he'd woken in a blood soaked bed?

He shut his eyes, throwing his arm across his face as his expression contorted in a brief glimmer of pain. It was too early for him to be up, but he couldn't lie in the cold bed any longer. The person that he had used to be would have been shocked at the transformation in his sleeping habits, but now his bed held no warmth and sleep no respite for him. He shivered in the cold air, lifting his shirt from where he had discarded it upon the floor the previous night, staggering quietly down the hall to the bathroom.

He splashed water on his face, lifting his head to meet his own tired eyes in the mirror. Every day seemed to add more lines to his face, as though the centuries that had passed untouched upon his skin had finally caught up with him. If possible, his hair was messier than usual, the circles under his eyes darkening with each new morning. The stubble that always lined his chin was getting thick, but he didn't trust his shaking hands to wield the small blade of his razor that particular morning.

He had imagined that there would be good mornings and bad mornings, but he was wrong. Every morning was much of the same, cold and numb and empty.

Sighing at his reflection he towelled his face dry, running his fingers along the rough hair of his jawline. He would trim it later, when his hands were steadier and less likely to betray him. Padding softly through to the kitchen he made himself a cup of coffee, the clink of the spoon against the mug sounding far too loud in the still silence of the shop. The clock that ticked away loudly on the wall told him that it was a little after 5am, but he supposed that he was lucky to have gotten any sleep at all.

Restlessly he drummed his fingers against the table, drinking occasionally from his mug but not really tasting the coffee. Things didn't taste quite as good anymore. He glanced at the clock again, and realised that barely five minutes had passed. He was too edgy to sit still but he was at a loose end for what to do with himself as he so frequently was those days. Tessai and the kids wouldn't be up for a good few hours, but he wasn't really in the mood for company anyway. The thought of training held no joy for him, he had exhausted himself the previous night with his frantic efforts and his muscles still ached deeply. He couldn't sit still and concentrate long enough to read a book or even to watch some trash on the television that the children had insisted on getting for the shop. And for the first time in his life, his experiments and tests seemed unenticing and dull. Everything seemed dull nowadays. His fingers twitched for his sword and he knew where he would end up, as he did most other ridiculous hours of the night. He set his mug down with a clatter on the table as he departed, pulling the folds of his shirt further around him against the cold light of morning.

The clock ticked away to itself quite happily, oblivious to his absence.

Barely fifteen minutes later he found himself following the same path along empty streets as he did almost every other night. When he couldn't sleep from restlessness and bad dreams he would leave the shop and head out onto the streets, Benihime impatient at his hip. Always half hoping for the appearance of a rouge hollow to give him something to do, something to _kill,_ something to give him that brief moment of distraction where his mind went blank in the blood rush of the fight and the knowledge that he was still doing something, still fighting to protect the town that had meant so much to someone not so long ago. And yet every small victory was naught but a cold and empty revenge, which brought no peace to his soul and no lightness to his heart.

It had been quiet recently. Too quiet. The cruel lord and his hollow army had barely stirred since their blood soaked victory in the Urahara Shoten, and even the weaklings that usually showed up to roam the streets of Karakura were becoming fewer and fewer in number, and so that morning there was little to distract him from his thoughts. He walked the same path as he always did, his feet leading him along the painfully familiar streets where a vibrant redhead had taken him not so long ago. Underneath the canopy of trees almost completely bereft of warm autumn colours, down the streets still empty of both human and spirit life. And he would always arrive at what had been their destination that day; the little clinic that was still in mourning of its loss.

He paused outside of the front gate, knowing better than to advance any further. It was rare that he would stop there, usually continuing his journey onwards past the building, but he needed to check in every so often, to make sure that three presences still flickered brightly within their beds. He owed the substitute shinigami at least that much, nevermind how furious Isshin was with him and how hated he was now by his old friend. To say that they had become estranged was an understatement, Isshin point blank refused to have anything to do with the blonde, and if he had tried to make contact again he was sure that he would find Engetsu shoved through his gut. He closed his eyes as he felt the burning reiatsu of his old friend from inside the clinic, and remembered.

The funeral.

There should have been rain, and indeed the sky was pregnant with storm clouds, turning the very air grey and cold around them all. There hadn't been a proper service; it had been a closed, unofficial affair. Family only. But mourners had flocked to the grave throughout, the majority of them being deceased themselves, wearing gigais draped in black. The shinigami had all been withdrawn to Soul Society to prepare for the coming Winter War, but they had been allowed respite for this one day, to pay their respects to the brilliant and brave substitute shinigami.

Rukia had held Orihime's hand as both girls cried silently, their tears falling on the grey earth while the flame haired lieutenant set his expression in stone, Rukia turning back into his arms, burying her face in his chest as Orihime was lost too in Ishida's embrace. The great bulk of Chad stood stoically over the grave, muttering something to the cold stone that was lost, carried away in the wind to wherever the deceased may rest.

But the body wasn't there. The gravestone that stood proud next to his mother's was a tribute, a memento to mark the death of a bright star. A proper funeral was out of the question, giving that as far as the human authorities were concerned, there had been no death. Involving the police in the matter would have caused problems beyond imagining due to the violent and depraved nature of his death, yet there was no way that they could not inform someone. It was Yoruichi that had laid down the law here, proposing a lie that was even more painful to tell than the cold truth. Isshin had reported his son as missing, a runaway. And a male teenage runaway wasn't exactly a high priority for the police. There had been questions and interviews with his friends and family, but beyond that they had been left alone and able to explain away the redhead's sudden absence. The body (_that soullessbeatenbloodyemptyshe ll_) was in cold storage at Karakura Hospital, hidden away as a John Doe. One last favour from Ishida Ryūken to Kurosaki Isshin.

He shuddered violently at the thought of that vibrant hair laid out against the cold steel of a coroners slab, at the thought of covering up his murder. He watched the mourners at the false grave, not really hiding but out of direct sight in the shadow of a large oak tree. He waited until the dribs and drabs of visitors had ebbed away, it seemed as though the whole of Soul Society had turned out to pay their respects to the warrior who had done so much for them. Yoruichi was there, and she knew that he was too, but she left him alone, knowing that it was the way he wanted to be.

He still remembered each crunch of the leaves underneath his feet as he made his way over to the empty grave, the way that the breeze had picked up, slicing through his thin black jacket and freezing his skin. Leaves flew past on the wind and the sky hummed softly, threatening thunder in the autumn air. He had stood there for a long time, just staring blankly at the grey headstone as the clouds shifted above him.

The cursive etched into the stone was simple,

_Kurosaki Ichigo.  
A true hero and guardian._

Flowers lined the soil at the foot of the stone, with little human gift cards and scribbled messages blotted by tears. His vision started to blur as he read that message, over and over again.

_Kurosaki Ichigo._

_Hero._

_Guardian._

_IchigomyIchigo._

'_It's me Ichigo. Look at me, feel me.' _

_'I'll never hurt you. I'll never let anyone hurt you.'_

He had promised him so little, just that one thing, and he had failed. He suddenly felt faint as he leaned over to run his fingers along the top of the stone.

'Ichigo… I'm so sorry. I couldn't protect you, I broke my promise.' He whispered into the cold air, tears fully forming now as they crept down his cheeks, leaving freezing little trails in their wake, his fingertips growing numb against the cold, dead stone.

His attention was caught suddenly by a familiar sensation on the wind, the softly smouldering reiatsu made his eyes slip shut in anticipation of the conversation that he had so desperately been avoiding.

'I'm not stupid you know.' When had Isshin gotten so close to him? The blonde too absorbed in his grief to pay any attention to his surroundings. Ichigo's father stood behind him, narrowed eyes piercing his weary back, his voice low and heavy with pain and confused anger, not knowing in which direction to lash out. 'Though I probably should have noticed it earlier, but I trusted you…' His voice caught in his throat, and Urahara slowly opened his eyes as he braced himself for the unleashing of his friend's anger. With a few quick steps Isshin crossed the distance between them, grabbing the shopkeeper by the shoulders and spinning him around to face him. Urahara winced at the pain and resentment written upon his face as he spat his accusations. 'I trusted you with my son!'

'Isshin,' He murmured, defeated grey irises fading behind heavy eyelids. He had been waiting for this, been waiting for Isshin to lash out, to acknowledge the fact that his son had been found murdered in the bed of his oldest friend, the bed that they had been secretly sharing as lovers without Isshin's awareness. 'I…'

'I don't want to hear your excuses Kisuke!' Isshin growled, his jaw clenched as he fought the urge to reach for his sword, fingers digging into the blonde's shoulders rough and hard enough to bruise as he shook him slightly. 'I don't ever want to hear your voice again! I trusted you and you- you betrayed me…' The hatred in his eyes was painful to behold, but Urahara made no plea of defence. He deserved this. He had betrayed his trust. He had taken advantage of his son, made promises that he failed to keep. Isshin had every right to hate his guts and Urahara understood, he was in the same position himself. So he stood stoic and waiting, blinking away the tears that had been shed, waiting to receive the full extent of Isshin's wrath. The ex-shinigami just stared at him in loathing, eyes searching the pale grey as if looking for signs of repentance, of shame. He loosened his grip on the shopkeeper's shoulders, letting his arms drop away as he took a step back. 'You disgust me. My son… Ichigo… he was seventeen years old. Seventeen.' He hissed. 'How long have we known each other? How could you take advantage of him, after everything that bastard put him through!?' Urahara blinked at him slowly, mentally debating what to say. He knew that there was only one way that he could explain it, and he didn't know if it was really what Isshin wanted to hear. But he could not deny the truth in his heart, no matter how much his friend may hate him for it.

'…I loved him.' He murmured so softy that his admission was barely a whisper, caught and carried away upon the wind. But not before Isshin heard it.

'Don't … Don't you dare…' His fists clenched and unclenched in anger, and Urahara didn't doubt that they itched to connect with his face. 'Don't you say that to me.' He drew closer again, bringing their faces to within an inch of each other's, eyes dark with anger narrowing as he spoke, low and accusatory. 'You don't know what love is. You don't know how to love, you just calculate and experiment and use people to achieve your own selfish means. And even if I believed you…' As he spoke all the hatred seemed to fade from his voice, replaced with weary grief that was just too heavy for him to carry. 'My son is still dead. He's dead because you failed to protect him.'

The wind began to pick up, whistling past their ears and stinging their skin. The sky gave a low rumble as though it were disproving of their conversation, the storm clouds threatening to break above their heads. All the colour seemed to drain from Isshin as he stepped away again, fading into the background of the drab monotone world that had become reality for both men. After a moment of silent consideration he spoke again, weary eyes still dark with anger capturing his grey ones. 'Once the schools close up for winter I'm taking the girls and leaving this cursed place. All I can do now is get them as far away from all of this as possible, before the war starts and _he _decides to wipe this town off the map. And I don't ever want to see you again. I don't want you anywhere near what's left of my family.' The spite in his words hit Urahara like a fist in the stomach. It was a blow that he had been expecting, but one that hurt deeply nonetheless.

'Isshin … I'm sorry.' For once in his life he was struggling to articulate his feelings, grasping for words like air. 'I never-'

'Just get out of my sight.' The venom in Isshin's voice as he cut him off made it clear that there was no room for argument, he was not in the least bit interested in any excuses that Urahara had for him. So he turned and left, leaving the father to stand alone over the empty grave of his son. He had not seen him since, but the memory of their final altercation was all too clear in his mind.

When he opened his eyes he was back to reality, the cold wind picking up to fly across his skin, picking up loose strands of matted blonde hair to dance in the wind. He lifted his hand from where it lay upon the front gate, paying no heed to the splinters that had penetrated the palm of his hand where he had gripped the wood tightly in the pain of remembrance. He turned away from the clinic and walked on, no real destination in mind.

The sun was rising higher in the sky, illuminating the frost that covered the waking world of the humans. But he did not feel the cold, nor the pain in his hand, because everything faded away in comparison to the pain of his heart and soul.

The sun was rising and the sky was illuminated with a thousand beautiful colours. And he should not have been watching it alone.

* * *

_A/N: Aaaand we're back! Part Two is go and I'm bringing the heartbreak. Next chapter coming soon... As always feedback/reviews would be beautiful. Enjoy :3_


	18. Light With A Sharpened Edge

**Chapter 18: Light With A Sharpened Edge**

_'Free from the torment of sin,  
All this I'm giving up.  
It's not me,  
Buried wreckage, my soul.  
It's not me, so who am I now?_

_(Over and over again,_  
_Light with a sharpened edge,_  
_Cut through the black empty space we call sky...)'_

One of the few things he wasn't totally crazy about regarding his home was the eternal night that covered the deserts. It was something that he was used to; of course, he had never known anything different. He was comfortable in the dark, had grown up learning to hunt and kill beneath the blanket of night, but he found that he preferred the training ground with the artificial sunlight, the brightness that illuminated the vast space and made the teal hair and eyes of his sparring partner gleam in the sunlight. It was much easier to see him coming that way.

Aizen-sama did this nifty little trick with the false sunlight too. When he seemingly decided that he'd had enough of the espada destroying the buildings of his palace with their reckless training battles he would set the fabricated sky alight with colour, fading out the light against a kaleidoscope of warm shades; oranges, pinks and reds that bloomed above them in the sky. Starkk had told him that in the _human _world the process was called a 'sunset' (the 'sun' being the opposite of the moon, which in those _other_ worlds shared equal dominance over the sky. A strange concept, he had thought). He did not care what a sun was, nor why it set, but for some reason he enjoyed the show nonetheless.

On that particular day they had been beating the crap out of each other and the surrounding area so intensely that Aizen must have been particularly pissed at them, because the lightshow was brighter and seemed more dazzlingly vibrant than usual, as if it were trying to give them a warning. He shook the sand from his hair and pushed the growling blue-headed arrancar off of him as the light began to fade rapidly away into the night, stretching and yawning a sharp tooth yawn as he cracked and popped the kinks out of his spine. His partner was already on his way out, leaning against the arched doorway of one of the palace's many entrances as he turned to grumble at him.

'C'mon little cub, move it or lose it. There's gonna be a meeting soon and something tells me that Aizen_-sama _is in a bad mood.' He flicked his teal eyes upwards to the sky, as he spoke, sneering slightly when he pronounced the _'sama'_, his constant small act of rebellion. He didn't seem too fazed by the concept of their lord's anger, rather impatient for his partner to follow him inside, wary of the fact that he was supposed to be keeping an eye on him.

'Yeah yeah, just gimme a minute.' He yawned again, stretching upwards toward the blooming sky. 'It's kinda cool don't you think?' His eyes narrowed against the bright lights as he bit back another yawn that tried to rise in his throat, the sleepy warmth of the fading light making him drowsy.

'Whatever.' The sexta shrugged as he rolled his eyes at the other man, turning to head in through the gaping doorway. 'Just hurry up yah pansy, I'm not getting my ass beat for you being late again.'

'I'll be right up.' He muttered, still staring at the sky even as he brushed the dirt from his white robes, captivated by the light that was such a rarity in this dark place. He almost wanted to kick off and soar up into the red sky, to keep going until he found the end amongst the clouds. But he knew that he'd just break through the dome and emerge into the darkness once again, standing atop a fake atmosphere, staring out across the endless desert of the dead things.

Shaking his head as though to dislodge his strange thoughts, he reached up to remove the tie holding his hair in place, letting long red strands fall in a cascade against his pale skin. He ran his fingers across his scalp and down the length of his vibrant hair, untangling and twisting the strands matted with dirt and sand. His hair was long, longer even than most of the female arrancar that stalked the halls of the palace, and the colour of the sunsets, as artificial as they may be. Despite its beauty it was also messy, rough and uncontrollable, just like he was. He was narcissistically proud of it, and consistently irked by the teasing he received from the blue haired panther for it. His fingers connected with the top of his broken horn, and he distractedly ran his fingers down from the jagged tip to the base, long fingers tracing the edges where it connected with what remained of his mask, the strong white bone that encircled his right eye and dipped down to the line of his cheekbone where a bright red birthmark crept out from beneath the broken mask, two flowing pointed lines that ran to the base of his jaw, standing out vividly against his pale skin.

He huffed out a breath as he surveyed the damage from his last sparring match, blowing his breath upwards to ruffle the strands of his fringe that fell across his forehead, tickling his skin.

His bare chest was marked with damage, framing the outlines of the hole that marked where his heart had been removed. Cuts and bruises from where the teal eyed espada had connected with his fists and sword, scrapes and friction burns from being thrown against walls and the unforgiving desert floor. But nothing serious, he had long ago learned how to get the best of his teacher, though the elder would never admit it. He absentmindedly ran a finger through the blood that leaked from a fairly deep cut on his arm where he had let his guard down and been caught by a nasty blow from Pantera, but the wound was already healing, blood clotting and skin knitting back together at a speed that was astonishingly fast, even for an arrancar. By the time he had cleaned himself up and headed along to the meeting in a mere few hours' time he knew that the evidence of their fight would be practically non-existent. He stretched in the sunlight again, letting his amber eyes slide shut as he held his strong arms up to the artificial sky, the fading light bathing his wounds in orange.

'Alejo!' His eyes flew open at the sound of his name, orange-yellow irises standing out brilliantly against the blackness of his sclera. The grating voice, floating over from the doorway behind him, was unmistakeable as that of his partner. 'Don't make me come back there and drag your ass in here.'

'Alright, alright!' He muttered, squinting into the darkness at his partner, the few strands of light that fell inside the doorway illuminating the azure blue of the panther's hair. 'Gods Grimm, you don't always have to be such an asshole.'

'Shut your face before I come over there and shut it for you.' He growled in reply.

'Ooh I'm so scared.' He teased the blue haired espada in a mocking tone, raising his eyebrows as he grinned manically.

'Just fucking get a move on.' The espada growled low in his throat as he ground his teeth, turning away from the window in annoyance.

As he walked through the dark arch of the doorway he turned back, just for an instant, to capture the last fleeting rays of the dying light against his skin. For a moment he was overcome by a strange sense, a feeling like déjà vu that crept into the tips of his fingers and stole along his arms, a strange ache spreading outwards from the dark hole in his chest that marked the grave of his heart.

Then thick fingers curled in his hair and tugged sharply as the sexta jarred him back to reality. And as he turned, swearing coarsely at his partner, to walk into the darkness, all thoughts of warm colours faded from his mind as quickly as they had from the sky.

And so he turned his back on the sunset.

* * *

Eyes snapped open in the weary gloom, the redhead suddenly bolt upright, wide awake and panting, drawing in deep breaths like each was his precious last. His eyes burned like fire, pupils dilated as adrenaline shot through his veins, fingernails clawing frantically into bed sheets. Every hair stood on end, as though reacting to some imminent danger, eyes frantically scanning the room to find the source of whatever had awoken him. Yet he could sense nothing out of place in the prevailing darkness.

And then it all came flooding back. His body relaxed, his breathing slowed slightly as the scowl that marked his face softened a little. It had been that dream again. He rubbed the palm of his hand across his forehead, screwing his eyes shut and trying to remember.

_Why could he never just remember?_

Fleeting sensations, glimpses of sunlight; skin as pale as the moon; warmth; a soft musky scent; laughter; colours that illuminated the sky and his soul; life. Those fading, flowing images that tormented his unconscious mind, colours and smells and sounds so familiar yet so alien, each more indistinct than the last. Then darkness, nothing but darkness and the sharp tang of blood hanging low in the air.

He growled fiercely as the memory escaped him, just as it always did. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed he stood and stalked from the bedroom to the small adjoining bathroom. He ran the cool water over his hands and splashed the liquid against his face, breathing deeply as his fists clenched around the cold marble rim of the sink. Lifting his head he scowled into the mirror, the side of his face barely illuminated by the pale moon breaking through the window of his room. He stood for a long time just staring at his reflection, his fingernails cracking and breaking against the marble. The Alejo that stared back at him seemed distorted somehow, his features twisted unnaturally. He ran his fingers down the red mark that cut the pale white of his skin. The white bone of his mask seemed to glow unnaturally, standing out strangely in the dim light. He was there, yet somehow he was not. He had always had this feeling, when he awoke in the middle of the night with sweat on his brow and panic in his veins, yet he could never quite pinpoint the source of his terrors.

Letting his eyes slip shut he shook his head, feeling the cool drops of water trickle down his face. As a means of distracting himself he let his thoughts wander, thinking back to the meeting that Grimmjow had dragged him to earlier. It wasn't that he actively disliked the meetings - he just found them boring, and this one had proven no exception. The name Grimmjow constantly referred to him by – 'cub' – always came back to haunt him at those times. The knowledge that he, despite his impressive power and capabilities, was still the baby of the group, and so treated like one by everybody. He would sit there, unaddressed and given no role in the discussion, no assignments, no jobs. And Aizen would just sit there and stare at him, with those unnerving eyes that bore straight into his soul. He could only remember a handful of times that Aizen had directly addressed him - he seemed to try his best to avoid the redhead most of the time, yet always stared at him. Just stared.

He feared Aizen, all the arrancar did, but for Alejo the fear seemed to stem from some unknown source, something dark hidden deep within him that he had felt ever since the first time Aizen had touched him. He remembered that vividly in amongst the rest of the blurry, muddled details that made up the memory of his birth – emerging cold, shivering and confused with his mind only half formed, the firm hand on his shoulders that should have been comforting only making him feel colder as he was stared down and welcomed by those dark eyes.

He heard the door to his room open and scowled. He'd gotten better at sensing reiatsu as of late, but allowing himself to become lost in his thoughts he had failed to recognise the approaching presence, indeed it was one that had been so familiar to him throughout his life that he almost didn't notice it anymore, like an scent ever present in the air. His image in the mirror was joined by another, the owner of that fragrance, and he briefly allowed his eyes to flicker from his own black and yellow irises to scowl at the dazzling blue pair that lingered in the darkness just above his head. Sharp nails, more like claws than anything else, gently raked the bare skin of his back.

'You woke me up again. You and that wolf need to keep working on that reiatsu control of yours…' The taller male murmured softly as he leant forward to rest his chin on the crook of Alejo's shoulder.

He scowled at the gaze that met his own in the mirror, a wicked grin cracking the gloom. His skin trembled at the feel of hair against his neck, his body still covered in a thin sheen of sweat from his rude awakening.

'Well as long as you're awake…' Grimmjow purred into his ear. Alejo could have laughed at that comment, but held his frown, staring the predator in the mirror down.

'As if you would have let that stop you…' He murmured, his eyes slipping shut at the feeling of sharp teeth scraping lightly against his neck.

Flashes of sensation swirled around the edge of his senses, anachronisms from another time and place that seemed as though it had never existed at all. Things that haunted his dreams without origin and chimed with the sensations of the physical world, Grimmjow's touch upon his back made his body remember slender finger and blunt nails, but his fingers were thick and his nails sharp. The teeth that captured his earlobe should have produced a gentle nibble, but instead bit down roughly upon his sensitive skin. The hands that gripped the jutting bone of his hips dug in like a master's command in what should have been a lover's embrace. The thick hands spun him round by the waist, a thick muscular body simultaneously pushing him back against the cold marble of the sink and conjuring thoughts of a lean and warm frame in his mind.

His eyes snapped open, and he started to fight back. He hated giving Grimmjow the satisfaction of the upper hand, and the images that haunted his dreams frustrated him most in these moments. They were almost enough to make him despondent, he thought, that was if he still had any feelings left in the black hole that had replaced his dead heart. And so they did not control him, for he did not care, and confusion turned inward to anger and he rejected the dream sensations just as he always did. Here was real, here was truth and here was his place in the world, not in some fucked up dream.

Catching blue hair between his fingers, Alejo reached up to grab Grimmjow's head, pulling him down so that their lips met in a rough embrace. The clashing of their teeth in the frantic struggle for dominance and the nails that tore cloth and raked skin provided a more than adequate distraction from the dreams and the confusion. His bare skin was pressed hard against the cold marble of the sink on one side and flush and sweating against a warm solid body on the other, indistinct sensations replaced with real, intense, physical feeling. The warm and the cold, teeth and nails, the tongue that pushed inside his hot mouth, the fingers that slid along his naked length and pushed inside his tight warmth, real sensations that brought him back to the present, reminded him that there was a real world beyond his dreams.

He was spun round again to face himself in the mirror, meeting Grimmjow's eyes and smirking at the predatory look that crossed his face. He opened his mouth to make a comment but his words were lost as the blue haired espada rudely shoved those thick fingers inside of him again, stretching and bending inside of him just enough to set off those pleasurable sparks in the pit of his stomach. Bracing himself against the mirror with one hand, he watched pleasure flit across Grimmjow's face, and saw his own contort in a burn of pain and pleasure when the elder male pushed inside of him. Grimmjow smirked as he watched Alejo gasp, barely giving him time to adjust to the intrusion before he started moving, pushing him hard against the cold sink as he gripped his hips tight enough to bruise, nails digging in to draw blood as he pulled the redhead's hips back against his own with each thrust, the predator revelling in the cries and moans that he drew as he dominated the young arrancar, tormenting him as he began to stroke him in time with the frantic thrusting, watching the expressions twist his face and his hands claw uselessly against the glass when he finally found his release, his entire body seizing and tightening and causing Grimmjow himself to cry out as he followed suit, marking Alejo as his territory as he released his seed inside the boy's body.

And he stood then with his back still pressed to that of the older espada, sweat slick against their skin, panting heavily as the aftershocks of adrenaline began to fade into a familiar discomfort. But he was at peace once more, because now the images had long been banished from his mind, snuffed out like the flame of a candle and completely forgotten about by the fickle young arrancar.

That was, until the next time they would spark up and cause him to awake sweating in the night, reaching out into the darkness for a figure that would never manifest, hands grasping only the cold air of eternal night and, as his fists clenched in the air, subconsciously knowing the pain of a loss so deep and raw it would kill him,

if only he could still feel it.

* * *

_A/N: Oh man this chapter gave me some grief, and I had a serious conflict over the Grimm/Alejo relationship, but it's been a long time coming so I hope you all enjoy. As always reviews etc would be lovely ~:D _

_Ciao for now lovelies._


	19. Everyday

**Chapter 19: Everyday**

'_Everyday is a battle between what I wanna know,  
And what I don't wanna figure out.  
And everything in between in these thoughts of mine,  
That you know I can't live without._

_And I find myself in need of a pause,  
I'm not sure why, but I think that it's because,  
Of this desire to be what others want me to be,  
Which is nothing close to me.'_

The half-moons of the fox's striking blue eyes hovered wearily in the pale light of eternal night as he sat alone at the long white table that Aizen used primarily for his meetings with the espada. What other uses that the table had served over the years he did not like to think about, scratch marks littering the table to compliment the bruises on his hips. A shudder of mixed emotions passed over his skin and he turned his gaze and attention elsewhere. He had successfully escaped from Aizen, Tousen and the persistently annoying arrancars and for once he had a moment alone to contemplate his situation.

Gin felt that even if the cycle of day and night had existed here he still would have been trapped solely within the depths of the night. His mission, his long-con if you could call it that, was weighing heavily on his heart and he would never be surprised to find out that Aizen knew the truth all along. As he looked out over the white sand and polished marble of his cold home he wished that he could just give it all up. What he would give to return to his true home, to run his long pale fingers through auburn locks, to feel warmth against his skin again... Here all was cold and all was pale. It was a fitting environment for the fox, and he supposed that in the end it was all that he deserved.

'You seem troubled Gin.' The ex-captain would have startled at the sound of his Lord's voice if he had not been expecting it all along. In this place you were never really alone, no matter how deeply you felt the darkness of the loneliness in your heart. His eyes narrowed to slits, his defences engaged.

'Not at all Aizen-sama, I was merely… thinking.' He chose his words carefully; aware that with each one that passed his lips he took a further step out onto thinner and thinner ice.

'Don't distress yourself.' Before Gin could even blink, Aizen stood beside him, cold fingers tracing the pale line of the shinigami's jaw. 'Just leave the thinking to me.' Gin shivered, he could sense that the subject was turning dangerous and he had long felt that his ability to please the Lord was waning.

'Forgive me my Lord,' he murmured, his skin moving softly under Aizen's touch, 'but I feel I must ask you of your plans for the boy.' The change of subject was dangerous but necessary, and it drew a raised eyebrow from the ex-captain. Aizen smirked, relishing the exchange that was about to take place.

'My plans are of no consequence to you, my dear Lieutenant. They are merely for you to follow.' The pads of his fingers moved along the contours of his bottom lip, his nails scraping the skin. 'You shall be informed of them in due course, when the time is right.'

'But I don't understand.' Gin grimaced, the nail digging deeper into his sensitive skin. 'Why do you allow him free reign, and why do you allow the panther to use him as he pleases?'

'Fear and pain are effective weapons, but overuse merely blunts weapons, you know that.' A cruel expression crept over Aizen's face and Gin felt ice in the pit of his stomach. 'His mind belongs wholly to me now; there is little need to reinforce the lesson. In fact, doing so would merely run the risk of bringing traumatic memories to the surface.' He cocked his head slightly, bringing his face dangerously close to his Lieutenant's. 'Is that what was troubling you?' He smiled. 'What, did you think that I had actually become attached to the boy? He is nothing more than a tool to me.'

'Just like me, eh?' Gin did not even try to hide the bitterness in his voice as he spoke, the awareness that each word brought him closer to annihilation had become more of a comforting thought than a fear in the darkness which had him in a stranglehold.

A slow, sly smile crept across the Lord's face and Gin felt his heart sink further into the icy darkness of the night.

'Just ensure that your usefulness does not run out.'

Gin recoiled from him, a thin line of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth where the skin had broken beneath his touch. Violent red marred his calm whiteness, his pale blue eyes narrowed in something dangerously close to hatred. He could feel the burn of the Lord's dark eyes in his skin as he turned to leave; aware that in Aizen's eyes he appeared like naught but a child having a tantrum, but not daring to look back for he felt that if he did his mind would be revealed and he would most surely perish.

And shrouded in the shadows of the meeting room the dark Lord touched a blood marred nail to his lips, and smiled.

* * *

The artificial sunlight beamed brightly down upon the dozing figure that lay atop the roof of the highest tower in the training ground. The surrounding area was for once silent and all signs of past violence had faded, scars healed into the hard white stone by the mere command of their Lord. The atmosphere was heavy and sleepy, simply moving through it felt like wading through treacle beneath the unusually hot sunlight and so he was left alone, the others too weary to even attempt to approach him. This was what he was like, his mere presence made everyone sleepy. His ever constant companion and weapon, the petite blonde firecracker, lay next to him. Following a particularly frantic sparring session earlier she too had for once succumbed to the peaceful drowsiness of his atmosphere and now lay happily snoring away, her child's face nestled in the crook of his neck, her quiet breath upon his skin, drunk on his scent and her own weariness.

His eyes slipped open lazily, sensing an approaching presence, a presence that he had become all too familiar with of late. He sighed softly, even from afar he could feel the anticipation in the young arrancar, the questions left hanging in the air. But he did not feel like moving, he was comfortable under the sun and feared awakening Lilly, it was not often that she consented to let him slumber rather than sticking her fingers down his throat and screaming in his ears whenever he dozed off. He felt the other arrancar move closer and let his eyes slip shut again, quietly awaiting the confrontation as was his manner.

A soft breeze rustled the brown locks that fell across his thin, pale face and ruffled the peaceful atmosphere that surrounded him. He exhaled softly, hoping that the new arrival would not wake the blonde devil from her sleep.

'You'd better not want to train now.' He murmured softly without opening his eyes, immediately feeling the indignation that spiked in the other.

'How did you know it was me?' Alejo asked, not even trying to disguise the irritation in his voice.

'Please, if you let anymore reiatsu leak out you'd have none left.' Starrk smirked as he opened his eyes, the small movement seeming to require a huge amount of effort in his cozily lethargic state.

'I thought I was getting better at controlling it.' Alejo huffed, more annoyed at himself for being careless than offended by the other espada's comment.

'A little, but you've got a long way to go if you think you're ever going to be able to sneak up on anyone, let alone me.' The lazily smirk still played upon Starrk's face as he watched the redhead's permanent frown deepen.

'Alright.' He scowled as he replied sarcastically, 'You don't have to sugarcoat it.'

'You're not so weak that I have to do that.' The Primera replied. 'So what _do_ you want?' Alejo shrugged, seemingly hesitant to spill forth the questions that swirled in his mind and tainted his reiatsu.

'Just wanted to talk...' He mumbled, his eyes not quite meeting Starrk's dark irises as he spoke.

'Did you have another fight with Grimmjow?' The brunette said, half teasing and half serious.

'No!' Alejo scowled sharply at the other as he spoke and Starrk's sharp eyes did not miss the way his hand moved subconsciously to adjust his obi, the bruises on his hips still fresh and sore from his last encounter with the blue haired jaguar. 'Nevermind... It doesn't really matter.' He stood to leave, his huffy pride wounded.

'Sit.' The senior espada commanded. Alejo obeyed immediately, not out of a respect for rank but for the arrancar himself. 'Now don't you leave until you've taken that weight off your mind. I can smell it on you, and if I can then others will certainly be able to as well.'

_Others like Aizen-sama._

He hesitated for a moment, running his fingers through the strands of orange hair that flicked out into the soft breeze, gathering his thoughts, his troubles. When he spoke it was fractured, stopping and starting as his mood and his emotions (_so sensitive for someone without a heart_) came and went.

'I'm the only one who doesn't have a number… I've always had this feeling, you know? This feeling that I don't quite belong here, I mean, not in the same way that you guys do… I know I'm the youngest, and that might just be it but…' There was a long pause, Alejo scowling into the locks of hair that flicked across his face. 'Starrk, am I different?' The Primera frowned, he had long known that this talk was coming and had long feared it. He ran his fingers through the short hairs of his beard for a while, thinking before he spoke, mimicking Alejo as he fussed with his hair.

'Why do you think you don't have a number? Why you're treated like a weakling even though you're clearly the strongest amongst us? Why you're being trained by the Primera?' He removed his fingers from his chin and turned his piercing gaze upon the younger male. 'It's because you_ are_ different, your birth was special. So of course you don't necessarily fit in here as easily as we do. I mean, just look at your name.'

'My name?' Alejo furrowed his brow in confusion, unable to comprehend how something as simple as a name could set him so far apart from his companions.

'Al-eh-jo.' Starrk spoke slowly, drawing out the syllables until it was almost incomprehensible as the redhead's name. 'It means defender. Nobody here has anything precious left to fight for…' A quick downward glance at Lilly told Alejo that this statement wasn't necessarily true. 'Perhaps you do.' Alejo felt the weight of this sink in, but did not have time to process it fully before Starrk spoke again, sharply, with a note of urgency in his voice. 'But you'll be wanting to put all thoughts like that out of your head boy. Being different is dangerous. Just you follow orders like a good boy, that's what you were born for, no matter how special that birth may have been, you were born to serve Aizen-sama, and that doesn't make you any different from the rest of us.'

They sat for a while in silence, Alejo staring out over the silent battleground, thoughts turning in his head like clogs, pieces fitting together and turning over each other.

He was the one to eventually break the heavy silence.

'I like it out here, the sun is nice...' He paused momentarily to reflect on his thoughts. 'It reminds me of something, something I feel like I forgot long ago.' When Starrk spoke it was soft and solemn, and the younger arrancar turned to look at him, an unreadable mixture of emotions flitting across his face.

'We all used to be someone... some_thing_ else.' His voice was soft and wistful, almost sad as he stared out over the bright and empty landscape, still cradling a sleeping Lilly gently in the crook of his arm. 'We all existed in a different form, maybe hundreds of different forms at some point or other. But those forms, who we were then, they're gone. You died Alejo, and your sun died along with you.'

The redhead turned his gaze from the almost sad expression on Starrk's face to look down at his hands, turning them over in his lap as he spoke.

'That's a sad thought.' He murmured softly.

'Perhaps, but there's nothing we can do about it.' The Primera moved softly, drawing Lilly onto his lap and stroking her hair. All we can do is live and accept our new place, our new form. Starrk felt the pressure that swirled in the young arrancar's reiatsu lessen and knew that he was somehow more at peace from hearing that

As Starrk looked down at Lilly Alejo saw the peace and the hint of an emotion now unrecognisable to the arrancar in his eyes, and he suddenly felt as though he had just remembered what he was fighting for. Starrk was right, whatever had happened was over now and he had a new life, a new family which he would fight for until the end.

'Thanks Starrk.'

'For what?' Starrk murmured, his eyes already slipping closed into the weary heat of sleep once again.

'I dunno. For everything I guess.' Alejo turned and grinned and suddenly everything was right again, the pain of confusion already forgotten as he moved onto the next thing.

The next thing which happened to be a blue haired espada moving towards them at some speed, something to break the hazy bubble of their current existence.

'Cub!' They heard the Panther bark as he appeared like wind behind them, Starrk paying him no heed as he fell deeper back into his slumber. Alejo turned and raised an eyebrow at his partner, all traces of previous distress entirely gone from his presence.

'I told you not to call me that.' He scowled at Grimmjow.

'I'll stop calling you that when you prove otherwise to me.' Grimmjow smirked as Alejo's frown deepened and he felt the redhead's reiatsu flare in indignation, though not enough to encourage him to rise.

'Hmph.' He stuck his tongue out in a childish gesture. 'What the hell do you want anyway?'

'Not me dumbass.' Grimmjow replied in an equally childish manner. 'Aizen. We've been _summoned_.' He rolled his eyes. 'So let's move it.'

'Oh?' Alejo raised a red eyebrow. 'Not like you to be so eager to come when summoned? Aren't we feeling like a good little puppy today.' He smirked as Grimmjow's face darkened in anger.

'Fuck off.' He growled. 'This is important.'

'Hmm.' The tone of his voice caught Alejo's attention. 'You mean…!'

'Yes. So move it.' The Sexta sounded almost serious, they both knew what this meant for Alejo.

'Oh.' Alejo rose, nodding his head at his companion as they left. 'See you later Starrk.' The Primera made no response. He was pretending to be asleep, something that he did quite convincingly.

'I'll make you regret speaking to me like that.' Grimmjow hissed under his breath once he thought they were out of earshot of Starrk, he didn't trust his sleeping act.

'Oh yeah?' Alejo smirked, raising his fists in a mock fighting stance. 'Want a go?'

'Not now…' Grimmjow moved closer and grasped his wrists, pulling the smaller arrancar flush against him, leaning in to bite his ear as he growled softly. 'Later.'

Starrk sighed gently as he settled into a more comfortable position, cursing his hearing for being so animal sharp as to give him full access to their conversation. Lilly shifted slightly in his arms and he felt this terrible sadness within him after he felt the presence of the pair fade and dissipate. The boy was too naive, clinging too hard to what he used to be. If he didn't let go he knew the fiery young thing would burn to death in his own flames. And the flames of his master.

'Goddammit,' he muttered as he ran his fingers through soft blonde hair. 'Why did I have to become fond of him Lilly?'

* * *

'Grimmjow… Alejo. Welcome.'

Alejo shifted uncomfortably beneath the Lords gaze. Being in Aizen's presence was intimidating and a little overwhelming at times. He felt like cold hands were running over his body, making his hairs stand on end. Those cold hands, he supposed, now held his heart in their grasp.

'So I suppose you're wondering why I called you here.' Alejo didn't respond, he wasn't supposed to.

'Your first mission, Alejo.' Aizen smiled, a sharp, sly expression that made Alejo shiver in excitement and fear. 'I'm sending you to the human world. Reconnaissance, nothing too strenuous.' That smile again. 'If you are confronted by the shinigami you have permission to engage, but not to kill.'

'Why not?' Grimmjow started at the sound of Alejo's voice, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling in anticipation. No-one questioned Aizen, particularly when he was in the middle of giving orders. Alejo just stood there, blinking innocently, completely unaware. Grimmjow tensed, prepared for sounds of pain and blood splatter on the marble floor.

But Aizen did nothing but smile.

'There are those amongst them who I require alive, for the time being.' Aizen let the question slide, secretly pleased with the bloodlust Alejo was radiating, his transformation had been splendid indeed. 'Rest assured that when the time comes, when we take Soul Society, there will be no shortage of bloodshed.'

Grimmjow looked over at Alejo, noticing the way that the corners of his mouth twitched to mirror Aizen's smile. He suddenly felt very afraid, a cold burning sensation spreading outwards from the tips of his fingers. The arrancar that stood beside him, normally so placid and sensitive, always changed like this when battle was in the air, his carefree attitude replaced with something altogether darker and much more sinister. But this was more acute, the bloodlust more intense, crueler, more merciless. Now he felt as though he stood beside a creature not altogether dissimilar to Aizen Sosuke. And though he would never admit it, that terrified him beyond belief.

'So what are we looking for?' Alejo asked, eyes once again wide and innocent, but that cruel expression was still tugging lightly at the corners of his lips.

'Souls.' Aizen murmured and Grimmjow raised an eyebrow. That was a new one. 'Before we make a move we need to know where the abundance of souls lies within a certain town.' His eyes glinted in the cold light. 'Karakura Town.' He paused for a moment for emphasis, but there was no response or reaction from Alejo so he pressed on. 'A simple task, all you have to do is feel them out. Grimmjow will assist you and ensure that everything runs smoothly.' A nod of his head told them that they were dismissed. They bowed their heads slightly at the Lord, Alejo dipping his head deeper than Grimmjow in respect, as they turned to leave. At the doorway Alejo paused, turning back momentarily to meet the steely gaze of his master

'Thank you Aizen-sama.' He murmured, the moonlight glinting on the shattered remains of his mask. 'I will not let you down.'

'I expect nothing less from you. Go now Alejo, Grimmjow will show you how to use the garganta. This is your chance to prove that you have the right to stand amongst your comrades.' Alejo nodded in response, that smile twitching at the corners of his lips once more as he disappeared from sight through the doorway, following his partner into the darkness of the marble hallway, to the gaping mouth of their passage between worlds.

White flickered in the darkness as Gin emerged from where he had been lurking, just outside the frame of the throne room door. He entered the room, well aware that Aizen was unlikely to have forgiven his earlier outburst.

'Souls?' His voice was playful and teasing, the best way to get back onto the Lord's good side was to play this game. He approached the throne, false confidence in his stride, resting his hands upon the armrests of the throne, either side of Aizen, a challenging smile playing upon his lips as he brought his face uncomfortably close to the other's. 'Is that the best excuse you could come up with?'

And as Gin opened his pale blue eyes to meet the Lord's own intense brown orbs, Aizen still just smiled, and Gin knew that something very, very bad was about to happen.


	20. Summit

**Chapter 20: Summit**

'_A sullen heart ticking under the ground,  
Taking the weight of which has yet to be found.  
If you can hear me now, why don't you recall?  
I was the one who cared after all._

_Breathe, Breathe.  
Breathe, Breathe__.'_

Urahara awoke with a start, an action that he had become all too wearily accustomed to in the months of late. He had been pulled abruptly from a dream in which he was wrapped in a peaceful reiatsu, a sensation which was never far from his mind in dreams nor in waking life. Upon awakening the intense sensation of _him_ would fade quickly, and Urahara's soul would desperately try to cling to the tendrils of life which burned in his chest. But all too suddenly it would leave him, and he would awake fully into an empty world. Alone once again, a widow in a cold bed, his fingers desperately clenched in bed-sheets, cloth gripped tightly between his knuckles, his skin seeking an ever absent warmth.

But this time the sensation did not leave him. And as he sat there, suddenly bolt upright in his bed, the feeling escalated, growing stronger and more intense until it was roaring in his ears, beating in his chest, overwhelming his soul.

His grip on the bed sheets tightened.

His mind reeled. Panic and joy and fear gripped his insides, turning them to ice. The blonde sat as still as stone, momentarily unable to comprehend the sheer magnitude of this occurrence, desperately trying somehow to reason or explain away what he was feeling. The pain in his chest, more acute than it had ever been, told him that this was no mere dream. Perhaps he had finally snapped, perhaps he had finally fallen into insanity because this was the subject of his dreams and deepest wishes and it could simply not be happening.

But this was no hallucination. And feeling the sensation build around him, closing in upon him he knew that there could be no other explanation.

It was twisted, broken, warped and dark somehow; to the point that it would even have been unrecognisable to someone who was not intimately familiar with that reiatsu. But to him it was entirely unmistakable, no matter how tainted it felt, no matter how much dirt and darkness tried to smother it. It was a feeling he would never forget even if he lived to be as old as the Captain-Commander.

It was Ichigo.

* * *

'So this is the human world?'

The two arrancar stood at the mouth of the garganta, gazing out over the town that lay spread out below them. Night had fallen fully now, the evening giving way to the spattering of stars in the night sky. Alejo was regarding the scene with interest, his eyes darting from the ground to the sky, silently wondering what was producing the twinkling lights that lay alongside the moon, so much brighter and more magnificent than anything he'd seen in Hueco Mundo.

Grimmjow glanced sideways to watch how the redhead's eyes slipped shut as a soft breeze played across his face, an expression of calm and wondrous rapture spreading across his features at this new experience. Normally he would have mocked him for such a gesture, but he was still feeling uneasy from what had transpired in the throne room. He wondered how the same being that could radiate such hatred and cruelly could now stand before him and show such an expression of innocent joy at such a simple thing, the feeling of a cool breeze upon his skin.

'In all its glory.' He sneered, his upper lip curling. Alejo shot him a look, his eyebrows dipping as he scowled at his partner, not appreciating the rain he was pouring upon his parade. This was _exciting _for him. He'd barely been allowed outside of the palace up till now, and here he was in another world. A world with all new sights, sounds and smells. Everything was so different here, it was night time but it was a night totally unlike any he had seen in the hollow world. The sky was so bright, alight with tiny little dots of light that complimented the moon. The air was crisp and it moved around him, running through his hair and caressing his skin. Below them the inhabitants of this world mingled like ants, stragglers heading home after a long day, strange metal boxes moving along tracks of light. It was so natural here, so full of life, and it excited him. His hairs bristled, his pupils dilated and he felt his blood beating faster beneath his skin. His bloodlust was rising with his excitement and he clenched his fists to calm himself down, he had a promise to keep to his master.

'Well let's get going. The sooner we're finished the sooner we can get back.' Grimmjow growled, bristling with anticipation. He didn't know what Aizen was thinking, sending them to the human world like this. And Karakura Town no less. The shinigami were bound to be on high alert after what had happened in the Urahara Shoten, and Alejo's infamously poor reiatsu control would do them no favours on the stealth front. They were certain to be confronted. A knot of worry formed in his stomach as he wondered how Alejo would react to them, to these surroundings. The creature was unstable at times, and if somehow he remembered... Grimmjow knew he would not leave this place in one piece. And he was so fond of his limbs, his new arm in particular.

'What's the hurry?' Alejo frowned at him again. 'This is my first time here, I want to enjoy it.'

'You won't be enjoying anything if the shinigami show up.' He muttered in response.

'Shinigami.' There was a frightening amount of venom in that word as Alejo spat it from his mouth. 'I'm not scared of them. I'm stronger than them.'

'Strength doesn't matter when you're not allowed to use it.' Grimmjow sighed at the idiot beside him; his overeagerness would get them both killed if he didn't keep a short leash on him.

'Aizen-sama said I wasn't allowed to kill them, that doesn't mean I can't cause them some pain.' He laughed. 'You know, just maim them a little.'

'Idiot. That doesn't matter; they have the healer, remember?' The panther grit his teeth as he remembered that he owed a limb to that girl. 'Whatever you do to them they'll just bounce back. Like cockroaches.' Alejo's brow furrowed.

'What's a cockroach?' Grimmjow looked at him in disbelief, sometime he forgot just how sheltered Alejo's life had been so far. He laughed and clipped playfully him across the back of the head.

'Never mind cub. C'mon let's get this over with.' With a challenging smirk at his partner he took off, sailing through the air with ease, his strong legs propelling him across the sky of Karakura Town. Alejo followed suit, determined to not be outdone by the creature he was forever in competition with.

As he flew through the air he could not resist the urge to glance down at the landscape below them. Humans. They were shaped like the arrancar but for their lack of broken masks and the filling in of the hollow hole by their organic hearts. They were so _tiny_. So vulnerable. So unaware that two beings that could kill them with barely an effort moved above their heads. So ignorant, so weak. He was already losing interest in them. But this town, it was something special. He could feel that, like something running beneath the soil, the veins and arteries of the spirit life that circulated in the earth. As unimpressive as its inhabitants may be, he could see why Aizen was so interested in this piece of land. And he could feel something else, some burning orbs of power in amongst the rhythm of the earth. They were almost like the presence of other arrancar, but softer and varying in size and power, flickering like flames on the ground. It was a strange feeling, almost familiar yet that he knew he had never felt before. It made him a little dizzy, a little sick in the pit of his stomach. He clenched his fists. If he with all his flaws could sense the presence of others with power then undoubtedly they could sense him too. The shinigami. Excitement and revulsion spiked in his stomach, if they came at him he would give as good as he got. They could not possibly hope to match him, especially when he had Grimmjow at his side. Alejo was undoubtedly the more powerful of the two, but despite everything he held a high respect for his partner and his battle prowess, raw and animalistic. When they fought together there was nothing they could not defeat.

* * *

Urahara barely made it down the street before he was joined by three other figures, shadows moving in the night, two dark, one white.

'Did you feel it?' Renji sounded scared, an emotion which seemed terribly out of place on the redhead.

'Yes.' He barely trusted himself to reply, but when he did he was surprised by how sure and steady his voice sounded. Ishida caught his eye and shot him a surprisingly compassionate look; the observant young man couldn't fail to catch the undercurrent of hysteria in his voice, beneath the stillness.

'It's _him_, isn't it?' Rukia asked him, her voice hushed and tense, wide eyes shining in the dark.

This time the strength of his voice did not hold, and all he managed was a pained whisper forced into the dark as they ran.

'_Yes_'.

* * *

Grimmjow turned his head to steal a quick glance at Alejo, trailing behind him slightly, preoccupied with his thoughts. The blue haired espada sighed grimly, unable to shake the knot of worry from his stomach. He could feel the presence of shinigami and was sure that they would waste no time in confronting the interlopers. And they would come with motives of vengeance and bloodshed. How would they react when they saw Alejo? His reiatsu was different now, his soul changed as it was, but even if they did not recognise the signature of his reiatsu his appearance was undeniably that of their fallen comrade. Aizen must have wanted this, but why? What good would antagonising their enemies do? Was this a mere show of power, a flaunting of his newest and most deadly weapon? Or was he playing a longer game than this, was there yet intricacies to his plan that that his subordinates would never know? Grimmjow had long ago given up on trying to figure out the man. _Never trust a shinigami_, he told himself. And he did not for one minute believe that the true purpose of their mission was to search for souls. Even if that had been Aizen's plan there was no need to send the two of them. They were not scouts and they were certainly the least subtle of all the espada. They were warriors and their presence would have their enemies up in arms. It just didn't make sense.

Lost in their thoughts as they were it did not seem to take long for them to reach their destination. Alighting atop a cliff upon a hill that rose above the town, the very same hill where the shinigami had first faced Ulquiorra and Yammy, they both paused for a second to take in the view before them. Alejo wondered at the brightness of the tiny lights that lay before him, lights of many different colours twinkling in the dark. It seemed that in this place there was light even in the darkness.

'Now all we have to do is feel them out.' Grimmjow murmured, not looking forward to trying to teach the dunce of reiatsu control how to do this.

'How?' Alejo tore his gaze away from the lights of the town to turn to his partner.

'Use your reiatsu dumbass.' Alejo flinched at the insult but did not retort, eager to learn more. 'I know it's not your strong point but at least_ try_ to control it.'

'Alright, fine.' He pouted huffily. 'What do I do with it?'

'Just feel them out.' Grimmjow drew himself up, standing proudly over the town, reaching out with his hands. Alejo followed suit, feeling a little awkward as he did so. But it was rare for Grimmjow to try to teach him anything seriously, so he shut up and followed his instructions. Grimmjow closed his eyes as he began to speak. 'Pour yourself into your reiatsu, think of it as an extension of your body, connected to your fingertips, project it outwards and you'll start feeling the souls of the humans, the spirits, the hollows and the shinigami. The more powerful presences will come across the strongest, the shinigami and the hollows, but forget about them. We need to focus on the souls, the humans.'

'Right.' Alejo nodded, focusing as hard as he could on his reiatsu. He could feel it burning in his chest, and he focused all of his energy on that ball of fire, feeling it spread into his extremities, down his fingertips and out of his body. He shut his eyes and tried to catch the feeling of slowly pouring himself out into the atmosphere. For a moment nothing happened, and Alejo concentrated harder, shutting down everything from the outside. He stopped feeling the breeze on his skin, stopped hearing the cooing of owls in the trees above and the steady rumble of traffic below.

And suddenly he could feel them, the clusters of souls, of humans down below. He could feel each and every one of them and they were all so lost, so confused, so tiny to him.

Next to him Grimmjow felt his reiatsu shift and was surprised. Alejo was always a fast learner but despite Starrk's patient teaching he had still made little progress on the reiatsu control front. But here he was out in the field, searching out enemy presences like it came naturally to him.

He just didn't understand that boy.

Alejo was still lost in feeling out the souls and Grimmjow took a step back to watch, focusing himself on monitoring the surrounding area only. Almost immediately he felt three presences approaching, fast. They were already out of time for this façade of a mission.

'Better hurry it up cub, looks like the welcoming party has arrived.'

Alejo's eyes snapped open, his concentration broken. He felt that familiar spike of excitement, of savagery, but he bit it back. Grimmjow turned, snarling slightly in annoyance. Their enemies were upon them now and they had no time to retreat, no choice but to face them. He could already tell that this was not going to end well. He tensed, his fingers twitching.

Four strong presences appeared behind them.

Alejo felt the new arrivals, felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. Felt the tips of his fingers alive with electricity as his reiatsu met that of his enemies.

He turned around.

* * *

Urahara thought that his heart was just going to stop in his chest when he saw the figure standing there. He would have cried out if his voice had not betrayed him, leaving his body to its own devices.

It was _him_.

The disguise of the length of his hair was betrayed by the vivid orange, that fiery mane unmistakable as his. His reiatsu was strange, but it was his, he had known that ever since the moment he had felt it appear. The tight white clothes which he wore, though a polar opposite of his shinigami garb, hugged the contours of a body that was undoubtedly his. The shopkeeper knew every inch, every line and every curve of that body and it was him. No matter how his brain screamed at him to wake up, to realise the implications of this occurrence, he did not care. Because it was _him._

And then he turned around.

The illusion shattered.

It wasn't the length of his hair, nor the broken horn which connected with what remained of his mask, nor the vivid red lines of the birthmark running down his face. It wasn't even the gaping hole in his chest that peeked out beneath the line of his pristine white uniform.

It was his eyes.

_Oh Gods, those eyes._

Those beautiful amber eyes which had sparkled in the autumn sunlight, had blinked back tears, had widened in surprise, had scowled at him and laughed at him. He remembered them slipping shut as they kissed, fluttering eyelashes against his cheek and regarding him with a quiet, heartfelt love. He had seen those eyes filled with pain and suffering, love and hope, fear and joy, but now… Now they were hellish and nothing of Ichigo remained in them. No warmth, no comfort, no love. They were so _cold._ So empty. So merciless.

So… hollow.

His companions recognised this at the same instant he did. Renji swore breathlessly, his grip on Zabimaru tightening. Rukia stifled a cry, willing her eyes not to water, Sode no Shirayuki growing colder against her body. Ishida's eyes narrowed and his fingers itched to draw an arrow, to point it at the beast that had formerly been his friend and comrade.

Alejo grinned that same sly grin, the mirror image of Aizen, as he surveyed the enemy.

'And what do we have here?' He drawled, eyes darting from one to the other like a predator deciding which victim to pick off first. Three shinigami, two dressed in what he took to be the standard garb, one in a strange green outfit wearing an even stranger thing upon his head. The two in the dark robes, one tall and red, one short and dark, looked simply horrified at the sight of him. He couldn't blame them for that; they hadn't even seen him in battle yet. The green clad man seemed to be the most distressed however; Alejo could feel his heartbeat racing even from where he stood. His gaze rested upon the green man's eyes for an instant and he recoiled. Something in those eyes disturbed him, the way they looked straight into his own as though they were looking into his very soul. Desperation and defeat and something else that he could not quite name was shining in those eyes and he had no idea why, this did not look like a man who came seeking battle, rather like a man already defeated.

_He must be a weakling._ Alejo thought to himself, instantly dismissing him. The other person interested him more, he was dressed in white but he was no arrancar. His keen eyes caught the cross hanging around his wrist and his excitement grew. This must be what Starrk called a 'quincy'. How interesting, to encounter both shinigami and quincy (he vaguely remembered Starrk mentioning something about the near extinction of that species) on his very first outing. It was simply a pity that he would not be allowed to make a trophy of any of them.

But they just stood there. Alejo scowled. He had expected some kind of reaction, some kind of attack. After all they had come here with a reason, to fight them surely? He glanced sideways at Grimmjow, wondering if this was standard shinigami behavior. Grimmjow met his gaze and grinned predatorily.

'Bunch a' weaklings, that's what we got.' He scoffed, hiding his own concern about the situation beneath a veil of confidence. It wasn't that he was worried about the shinigami or the quincy attacking as such, aside from the blonde one he did really consider them to be weaklings, and the blonde seemed to be in no state to fight. No, it was Alejo he was worried about, his unstable strength that could wipe them all out if he wasn't careful, and Aizen would have his head if anything happened to his precious little _pet_. If the shinigami weren't going to attack he had better try to get Alejo on the retreat. 'Not even worth killing.'

'Tch.' Alejo narrowed his eyes, seriously disappointed with the lack of action. 'Are all shinigami as unimpressive as this?' The one in the strange green clothing took a slow step forward, his sword still contained in a sheath on his hip, his face set in a grim expression. Alejo turned his cold gaze upon him and had just opened his mouth to deliver a taunt when he was cut off.

'Ichigo.' The green garbed shinigami spoke that name slowly and deliberately, as though it meant something. Alejo furrowed his brow as he spoke again. 'Ichigo… Do you know who we are?' Suddenly Alejo realized that the shinigami had been addressing him. His frown turned to a laugh at the absurdity of that concept.

'Sorry old man, wrong arrancar.' That grin split his features again and Urahara shivered, a cold lead weight dropping in the pit of his stomach. The small shinigami made a noise that sounded like something close to agony and his confusion deepened, he hadn't even touched any of them and yet they all seemed to be in great pain. Just standing there dumfounded. He twitched in annoyance, something about this whole situation seemed wrong somehow, it wasn't like anything he had imagined. They were so _pathetic_, it made him sick. No wonder Aizen was so keen to get rid of them.

'Ichigo!' The green shinigami spoke again, more insistent this time. Stepping forward but making no move to draw his sword. Alejo's lip began to curl.

'I told you, you've got the wrong beast.' He growled through unnaturally sharp teeth, mirroring the blonde's action by taking a step forward. His fingers twitched for his weapon.

'Ichigo, please, it's us.' The female spoke up, her fearful voice displayed in stark contrast to the confidence with which she held herself.

'Call me by that name again and I'll slit your throat.' He spat, his thin patience worn right through. She shrank back against the tall man with the strange markings upon his skin and he saw how they clasped hands so frightfully tight, fingers turning pale. 'Don't fuck with me shinigami.'

'It's okay.' The blonde shinigami's voice was calm and soothing, like he was trying to coax a wounded animal from its hiding place. His weapon remained sheathed at his hip, hidden behind his green coat. 'We can help you.'

'Help me?' The arrancar's face contorted in rage and pain as he moved closer to his enemy. 'How could you possibly help me?'

'You're not…' The shinigami stumbled over his speech for the first time, words clotting in his throat like lumps of clay, yet he moved forward too. 'You're not what you think you are.'

'Think?' He growled. 'I know what I am. I'm the thing that's going to kill you and all your kind.'

They were close now, faces barely a foot apart as they faced each other down.

'No, Ichigo-'

'My name is Alejo!' He all but screamed in the blonde's face, frustration giving way to rage. But his enemy did not twitch, just kept staring him down with that same unreadable, almost sad expression on his tired face.

'-I will save you.' He murmured, determination and something softer shining in his old eyes.

'I am an espada!' Alejo spat, unintentionally moving further forward in challenge. They were so close now he could feel warmth breath against his face, could hear the shinigami's heartbeat like a thunderous roaring in his ears.

'I will make you remember.' His voice shook slightly but that expression never changed. Alejo was so caught up in trying to make sense of it that he reacted too slowly to his enemy's movement, unable to stop the shinigami from reaching up to touch his face. Fingertips connecting at the pointed base of the birthmark that cut his face with red.

'Don't touch me!' He snarled as he recoiled, panic and anger flooding his system at the touch. His sword was released from its sheath and pointed swiftly at the shinigami, the point barely making contact with the pale skin of his cheek as he instinctively moved backwards to avoid the attack.

'Leave now!' He roared, unsure of why he had reacted so violently and struggling to make sense of so many things. 'Aizen-sama ordered us not to kill you but I will if you do not leave.'

The expression changed. The blonde shinigami stood stunned, his eyes clouding over, turning dull and lifeless in the moonlight. A thin trail of blood leaked from the crescent shaped cut on his cheek, standing out against the wan skin like a black moon against a pale sky.

'…Aizen-_sama_?' Urahara had known a long time again that he would never hear such words from Ichigo again, and it was in that moment that he understood. This was not Ichigo; there was nothing of him in this demon. This was the dark half, the Jungian shadow. The hollow.

Alejo tensed, his fingers gripping the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white, the blade still pointed towards the stunned looking shinigami. A frustrated growl escaped him as he weighed his options. If the other had given any indication of striking against him he would have cut him down in an instant, but he didn't. Instead he just stood there, that expression unchanged save for the bloody crescent moon Alejo had left upon his cheek.

Something about the man really pissed him off, even before he had opened his mouth Alejo had been itching to run him through, to shut him up, to stop him coming near him. His skin was crawling before he had even touched him; his birthmark was on fire in the wake of his touch.

Then his vision of the pale shinigami was obscured, vivid blue hair and tanned skin overwhelming his pastel colours.

'Woah there little cub.' Grimmjow smirked as he curled his thick fingers round Zangetsu's blade, the metal as an ally to him not breaking his skin. He could feel Alejo's bloodlust flaring and decided now was an opportune moment to step in. 'This one's definitely off limits.'

Alejo twitched at the sound of his nickname but complied huffily, sheathing the blade as swiftly as it had been drawn. He scowled past Grimmjow at the company of shinigami still standing staring and growled soft and low in his throat.

'Let's go Grimm.' He muttered, his eyes finally leaving those of the green shinigami and that sad empty expression. He turned his back to them, facing out across the town from the very edge of the hilltop. Before him the garganta once again opened its gaping jaws as he stepped out to meet it, showing no indication that he was aware of anyone else, least of all the way the blonde's expression contorted as he walked out into the darkness.

'Wait-!' Urahara stepped forward, his brilliant mind desperately searching for some idea, some way to fix this situation. But Ichigo always had a way of messing with his head, and even now he could think of nothing past orange hair and ochre eyes.

Grimmjow moved in front of him, blocking off his path to the garganta. The panther gave a quick glance to Alejo, checking the distance between them as he spoke.

'Back off old man.' He snarled, his voice hushed to ensure that Alejo's keen hearing would not pick him up. 'He's not the same stupid kid you knew, he's one of us. He always has been, he's never known anything different.' Urahara opened him mouth to speak but Grimmjow cut him off, time was short and he wasn't entirely sure why he was telling the shinigami this, to save himself or to save Alejo, he did not know. 'Aizen killed your Ichigo and he's what rose from the ashes, there's no going back for him, not now.'

The expression on the shinigami's face told Grimmjow that even if this was true, he would never stop trying. Grimmjow stepped out into the black wound in the sky, eager to leave this strange and impassioned situation behind.

'You cannot save him.' His final warning, growled at the shinigami as they stood watching, helpless as they departed from the human world.

Urahara moved to the edge of the cliff, almost as though he was going to follow them into the darkness, back to the hollow world, but he didn't, he knew he could never. He stood at the precipice, watching as the dark gash in the sky closed in around the two arrancar, closing them out of his world.

And Alejo did not look back even as the gathering darkness closed in around him, robbing him of the star peppered night and the confusing feelings they conjured within him. Surrounded by blackness, in the passage between worlds, he finally felt at peace again, floating in the nothingness of the dark.

Back in reality the shinigami stood, all lost within their own private thoughts, reeling upon waves of shock and fear and sadness. But none so much as the pale green man, who stood at the edge of the world and swore that same quiet oath into the darkness.

* * *

_A/N: I'm aware that my characterisation was all over the place on this one (*cough* scaredy cat Grimmjow *cough*). I'll do better next time, promise._

_Merry Christmas everyone! Hope you enjoy this little present and have a wonderful day._

_Love as always, Katrinea x_


	21. The Only Hope For Me Is You

**Chapter 21: The Only Hope For Me Is You**

_'(Remember me, remember me)_

_Where, where will you stand  
When all the lights go out across these city streets?  
Where were you when all of the embers fell?  
I still remember them._

_Can I be the only hope for you?  
Because you're the only hope for me.'_

The first few thumps barely reached Isshin. The sounds registered somewhere in the back of his mind, muffled as though they were travelling through dense murky waters. It was the second barrage of knocks that awoke him, sharp and rapid and insistent, a sound that never meant good news at any time of the day, never mind in the depths of the night. He was out of his bed and across the room in an instant, his heart pounding instinctively in his chest before his mind had even fully registered the implications of the situation. He pulled a threadbare dressing gown around his frame, once the body of a warrior it was now gaunt and pale, the raccoon rings beneath his eyes charting months of restless nights.

He had already been awoken once that night, torn from his sleep by a dream that had fled instantly upon awakening. But he didn't need to remember it to know what it was about, for the past two months he had dreamed of nothing else. When his nightmare roused him he did what he always did, he walked the house through, checking it over. Checking on his daughters in their sleep as they tossed and turned in their own frightful dream worlds, feeling more than ever the knife in his gut as he saw Yuzu's face stained with silent tears, her tiny fingers interlaced between Karin's, her arm curled tightly around that lion doll that used to sit upon Ichigo's dresser. They nearly always ended up sharing a bed now, for comfort and the illusion of safety. He understood how they felt; his own bed had never felt colder.

But that night he then did something out of the ordinary. He entered the one room that he never entered; always leaving it undisturbed when he checked the house for hidden ghosts and monsters under the bed, for he knew there was nothing but monsters there now.

He entered Ichigo's room. The atmosphere there was somehow different from the rest of the house, the air was stale and dry, the colours faded like an old photograph, like a distant memory. Time had not moved on in this place, and Isshin knew that it never would. His bed was still made, his clothes still hung undisturbed in the closet, his alarm clock and books and one dried up water glass still sitting upon his bedside table, the same posters still hung upon the walls. He thought that he could make out a messy imprint still upon the pillow, the ghost of a body lying upon the bed sheets. But he knew in his heart that there was nothing there but shadows. The room had lain empty for so many months, since Ichigo had first left the human world for the realm of the hollows, and it still remained unchanged save for the liberation of the lion doll and a thick layer of dust that had settled upon the place like a burial shroud, choking the last remnants of life from the room.

For a long time he stood there by the bed, gazing out of the window. He could feel something else, something out there, humming just below the surface of the visible world.

'_Probably just a hollow.'_ He thought, resisting the urge to feel it out, to seek it out. The old urges had been hard to fight recently, every spark of foreign reiatsu like an itch beginning for Isshin to scratch it. But he did not. Ever since his son had died Isshin had been on the defence, keeping what was left of his power contained tightly within himself. He did not seek out the presences of others and in turn he fiercely shielded his own from the outside world. He had lost his wife and his son to that world; he would not lose his daughters too.

The feeling disappeared all of a sudden, the hollow vanquished. With it came a strange sense of sadness, somehow deepening his sense of loss. Like a connection severing within him. And as he stared expressionlessly out of the window it started to rain, soft drizzle falling like a fresh sheet, covering and soaking everything in the world outside the window. Suddenly he felt dizzy but could not bring himself to sit down upon the bed, for fear of disturbing the ghosts whether they lurked there or not.

With the urge gone he felt his weariness return and had slunk back to his bed, to restless sleep and fitful dreams. It didn't feel like he had been there long, but somehow he had managed to fall into a deep sleep, like sinking to the bottom of a black abyss from which the frantic rapping on the door had rudely dragged him back up from. Shaking off the last of the inky dregs of sleep he felt instantly wide awake, half from fear and half old warrior's instinct.

He reached the door before the visitor had time to unleash another barrage of knocks. His fingers shook as he worked at the locks, drawing back the bolt and turning the key in the lock. He paused for a moment with his hand on the doorknob, suddenly struck by a terrible feeling of dread. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to open his door, to face whatever truth it was on the other side that felt it necessary to bring him news in the middle of a pouring night. Anticipating another frantic series of knocks and fearing that the noise would wake the girls if it had not already, he threw the door open.

Standing there was the last man he had expected to see, indeed a man that he had half hoped never to see again.

Urahara Kisuke stood in the soft rain, completely soaked through by it. His hat was long gone, his dank hair plastered to his face and neck. His clothes had turned a darker shade of green and clung to his lean frame, the sleeves hanging heavy with water. He must have been freezing, and indeed he was shaking terribly, his hands gripping either side of the doorframe to steady himself as he panted breathlessly.

'I told you to stay away from us.' Isshin muttered. He kept his voice low so as not to disturb the girls, but the undercurrent of anger was evident in his tone.

'I know.' Urahara breathed heavily as he spoke, trying to catch his breath after his frantic race to the Kurosaki's door. 'Isshin,'_ (my friend)_ 'I know. But this is important.'

'I don't want to hear it!' He hissed through his teeth. 'Leave us alone.' He made to shut the door, hoping that he could shut out reality along with the man.

'It's Ichigo!' Those words stopped Isshin's heart for a moment and he paused, the door halfway shut, his hand gripping the doorknob tighter than before, his knuckles white. Urahara's words nearly caught in his throat, to speak them out loud would be to admit the truth that he was scared to allow himself to believe in, and to give Isshin hope just to see it taken away again would be cruel beyond measure. He had been weighing the decision over and over in his mind as he had made his way here through the pouring rain, but no matter what the outcome was Isshin deserved to know. He had to know. So when he spoke his voice was steady, his words were clear.

'He's not dead Isshin.'

'What are you saying to me?' He spat, the quiet anger in Isshin's voice had turned to affronted rage now as he faced down his old friend. 'Haven't you done enough already, haven't you hurt my family enough?' The door was thrown wide open and Isshin stepped out into the rain. Now he was close enough to see Urahara's face clearly. The light from the hallway illuminated the circles under his eyes, darker than they had ever been. His face so pale it was practically white, his cheeks tinged pink with exertion standing out startlingly against all that pallor. Yet his eyes were sparkling anew, the way they did when he was working on some fresh idea or invention. Isshin recognised that spark and right now he hated it. Hated seeing such life in those eyes as he spoke such cruel words.

'I'm sorry, I wish I could just leave you alone, but something happened tonight. Something you need to know.' Urahara held his gaze, every word that he spoke laced with a quiet determination. 'I know that nothing I could ever do can repay the hurt I have caused you but right now I need you to trust me.' He paused at the expression that crossed his old friend's face, an expression that said he was far from even beginning to have faith in him again. He pleaded with him. 'At least hear me out.'

Isshin looked over his old friend suspiciously, trying to read the emotions flitting across his face. He wrestled with his own, trying to decide what to do, whether or not to dare to trust the man who had already betrayed him so deeply. Curiosity won him over; there was something in Urahara's eyes that he could not dismiss, just as he could not ignore the flame that had sparked a fire back into life in his heart at the sound of those words. The dream that he had every night suddenly made flesh.

'_He's not dead.'_

The rain was still falling down upon Urahara, but he stood his ground and Isshin knew that he would not leave until he had said what he had come there to say. But this was not the place for such a conversation, in the freezing rain which fell heavily upon the two men standing at the threshold.

'You'd better come inside.' He muttered as he relaxed his shoulders, letting down his defensive stance. Urahara smiled wearily, aware that this truce was temporary and made out of desperation rather than forgiveness, but he took it, he deserved no better. Things would probably get worse once Isshin heard the truth, but he could no longer lie to him even out of a façade of providing protection. Isshin deserved better than that, and ignoring the truth of the situation would not make it any less true, would not change the fact of what his son had become. And he would accept the blame, he would bear the burden of the creature's sin because no matter what he still loved him. He always would, beast or no.

Isshin stood back, pushing the door open and gesturing for Urahara to enter, allowing him in, providing temporary sanctuary from the cold and the rain and the hurt on one condition.

'Tell me everything.'

* * *

'… So that's what happened?'

The King of Las Noches sat upon his cold throne, elbows resting on the marble armrests as he leant back, his fingers interlaced in front of his face, barely touching his lips. His curled lock of chestnut hair rested upon his forehead, dipping down between his eyes to cut his face in two like a half face masquerade mask. Alejo and Grimmjow stood before him, the younger occasionally shifting hesitantly upon his feet. They had just finished debriefing their Lord on what had happened on their trip to the human world and his reaction, or lack of reaction, had surprised them both. He seemed almost pleased to hear that they had encountered the shinigami, certainly he showed no sign of disappointment or anger at the news that they had ended up gathering very little useable data.

Aizen's reaction had served to reaffirm Grimmjow's feeling that there was something not quite right going on with his master. It was all centred around Alejo, somehow it was all to do with him. He had assumed that Aizen's plans for the vizard had succeeded and ended with the transformation of his soul, but in true Aizen fashion there was evidently more to his plans for Alejo than met the eye. Typical shinigami bastard. Aizen caught his gaze and smiled that cruel infuriating smile that told him that he knew everything that Grimmjow had been thinking. He always knew.

'Very well.' His face returned to its usual impassive mask. 'There is still much to be done before the end, but you may leave.' That smile again, but this time it was fixed upon Alejo. 'Rest now.' He waved his hand in dismissal, his interest in them already lost. They bowed their heads slightly in acknowledgement.

'Thank you Aizen-sama.' Alejo murmured. Grimmjow declined to speak, simply turning on his heel and stalking from the room. Alejo followed suit, knowing that while Aizen may be through with them the two arrancar were nowhere near through with each other. The young creature was buzzing with questions and confusions, and though he dared not ask Aizen for the answers he would damn well squeeze as much information as he could from Grimmjow. He could tell that his partner knew something about those shinigami. He could see it written all over his face, feel it in his reiatsu; he was hiding something from him and Alejo would not rest until he had found out what it was.

Pale eyes watched the exchange intently from one of the many dark corners of the room. The figure emerged as the two arrancar left the room, scurrying away to deal with their own demons. Gin approached the throne, the beginnings of understanding creeping across his face.

'You knew this would happen.' He murmured softly into the darkness. His eyes fixed upon Aizen, scanning for a reaction. 'You planned it.'

'But of course.' He replied silkily from his perch upon the throne, his head cocked slightly to regard Gin as he approached.

'Why?' Gin closed his eyes to slits in some useless form of self-defence, as though if Aizen could not see his eyes he could not read the thoughts and emotions that had him so pre-occupied as of late.

'Why?' Aizen sounded amused, almost mocking as he addressed his lieutenant. 'Isn't it obvious?' Gin paused as he approached the throne, cocking his own head curiously at Aizen like a bird trying to decide whether it was safe to approach a potential predator.

'You sent him to taunt Urahara.' He spoke as though it was an accusation, one which he knew his Lord would not try to deny.

'Perhaps.' A cold smile played upon Aizen's lips as he motioned for Gin to come closer. Hesitantly, he complied.

'You're just playing with him, seeing how much pain you can inflict on him before the end, seeing how far you can push him...' They were dangerously close now, Gin's eyes slipping open despite himself to meet the gaze of hellish brown irises. 'Why?'

'It amuses me.' Aizen smiled that cruel smirk as he reached out to catch a hold of Gin's pale wrist. 'I will defeat Kisuke Urahara, but first I will have him on his knees before me for no other reason that it will please me. I will utterly break him, just like I broke his precious Ichigo…' A sharp tug on his wrist and Gin found himself straddling Aizen's lap. Coupled with the opening of his eyes he suddenly felt dangerously vulnerable. The dark Lord took no notice as he continued to speak, 'But unlike Ichigo I will then have no further use for him, and he will die knowing that I took everything from him, that I burned everything he loved.' That smirk grew wider as he brought his face closer to Gin's, close enough that the pale man could feel the warmth of breath against his cheeks. 'He will see the fall of Soul Society, he will witness the deaths of the shinigami and in the end he will die by the hand of the person he loves most. Or at least, what remains of that person.'

'You're going to have Alejo kill him.' Gin's voice came out in something close to a whisper, his breath suddenly stolen from him by the demon whose lap he sat upon. The grip upon his wrist tightened.

'A most fitting end for him indeed.' Aizen laughed softly as he brought his free hand up to brush back strands of white hair from Gin's forehead.

'Was it always about this?' He murmured softly, his eyes slipping shut again.

'It was about acquiring a weapon, both in the physical strength of Alejo and the psychological blow his death and resurrection dealt to the shinigami.' Fingers moved from brushing hair back from his forehead round behind his head, fingertips barely touching the outside shell of his ear, the sensation making him shiver. 'Destroying Kisuke is merely an amusing by-product resulting from the action.'

'You're unusually talkative tonight.' Gin teased, unsure why he had just been made privy to this information.

'You were the one complaining that I kept too much from you.' Aizen retorted and Gin felt those fingers press gently at the base of his skull, reminding him who was in charge here.

'I meant no disrespect.' He murmured softly, eager to keep on the ex-captain's good side.

'And surely there is no reason why I should not reveal at least some of my plans to you, my most_ loyal_ subordinate.' His teasing tone concealed a thinly veiled threat that made Gin's blood run cold. He forced a smile, trying to ignore the lump that had suddenly appeared to clog his throat. He shuddered as those fingers dug in deeper, nails running through his hair. He was painfully aware that his time may be growing short, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that Aizen knew all along. The Lord of Las Noches simply did not see him as a threat and so any plottings against him that Gin may have had were inconsequential. Gin couldn't touch him, and they both knew it. He stifled a moan as he felt cold lips brush against his skin, and gave Aizen what he wanted.

'Thank you, Aizen-sama.'

Submission.

* * *

Grimmjow had left before Alejo had even reached the door of the throne room, flash-stepping away as fast as he could. Alejo grit his teeth as he followed suit, determined not to let his partner get away. No matter how fast Grimmjow ran he would never be able to outrun Alejo and they both knew it. The white hallways zipped by as they ran, each identical to the last and creating a dizzying illusion of inaction.

It didn't take long for him to catch up to Grimmjow, grabbing him by the shoulder and pushing him against the cold wall.

'What the hell do you think you're doing?' The sexta espada snarled, his upper lip curling back to reveal fierce pointed teeth, glinting whiter than the marble walls.

'I could ask you the same question.' Alejo growled softly. He pressed his forearm against the panther's throat, pinning him to the wall and threatening to cut off his air supply. Grimmjow's cerulean eyes narrowed in quiet anger, his jaw clenching as he brought his hands up in an attempt to pry Alejo's arm from him, but his limb was like steel and he gave no inch despite the espada's strength.

'What are you talking about?' Grimmjow was a bad liar. He had never had any reason to be untruthful, never cared to spare another's feelings nor attempt to hide the truth of any matter. He was never scared and he never cared for the repercussions of his actions. The furthest he came to lying was the half-hearted attempt he made to cover up his disdain for Aizen and his rule, but that was intentionally transparent at the best of times. But here he was, pinned up against the wall by an arrogant, powerful young thing that used to be his greatest enemy and was now a comrade, but no less a rival. If Alejo pressed him he was unsure how little he would give away under that piercing hollow gaze.

'What the hell was all that about?' He hissed low as he demanded answers from the sexta. 'Why didn't they attack us? Who was that blonde shinigami?... Why did he keep calling me by that name!?'

'I don't-' As Grimmjow tried to respond Alejo pressed his forearm into his throat to the point where discomfort turned to pain, effectively cutting him off.

'Bullshit. You know something, I can _feel_ it!' Alejo spat, his earlier composure in the throne room was gone, now he was again feeling the confusing mix of emotions that had fallen upon him atop the hill and it made him want to claw at his skin in desperation, anything to get rid of them.

'You look like one of them.' The panther hissed through clenched teeth.

'What!?' He spat, confusion and anger evident in his tone. He loosed his grip on Grimmjow's throat, allowing him breath to speak.

'There used to be a powerful shinigami.' Grimmjow growled. 'He was stupid, but powerful. He had the potential to challenge Aizen, he was the only one who could have stood against him.' Alejo scowled.

'What happened to him?' His anger was quickly dissipating, replaced with the childlike curiosity that so often plagued him.

'He died.' Grimmjow saw something unreadable pass across Alejo's face and that anger quickly return.

'Then why do they think I am him?' He hissed as he pressed him harder against the wall.

'His hair.' Grimmjow choked out the best explanation he could give the boy. 'It was bright orange, just like yours. Your face is covered by the mask and that birthmark; it wouldn't be a stretch for them to mistake you for him.'

'But that blonde one, he was so strange.' _And he made me feel so strange… _Alejo's expression softened as an unspoken thought crossed his mind, and he loosened his stranglehold on Grimmjow.

'He was the shinigami's… teacher.' Grimmjow paused, unsure of quite how to describe the blonde shinigami. 'He blames himself for his death, and the guilt drove him mad.' Alejo took a step back, releasing Grimmjow from his grasp.

'How do you know all this?' Alejo regarded him curiously, wondering how it was that an espada could have such detailed knowledge of these things. The panther took a deep breath and fixed Alejo with his steely gaze as he spoke.

'Because I was there when he died.'

'How did he die?' That sad curiosity was back in Alejo's eyes when he spoke. His changeable nature still amazed Grimmjow, it was unnerving how easily he could change from bloodthirsty to innocent. He'd evidently been spending too much time with that damned Lilynette.

'How do you think dumbass?' He murmured, still getting his breath back. 'Aizen killed him.' Alejo's brow again furrowed in confusion,

'But I thought you said-'

'I said he could have stood against him.' Grimmjow cut him off. 'He tried and he failed. By the end Aizen had totally destroyed him, body and soul.'

'Why?' He pushed for more information, his interest peaked.

'Because he felt _love_!' Grimmjow snapped, his patience wearing thin. Pain exploded behind Alejo's eyes as Grimmjow's fist connected swiftly with his face. A blow that he'd never even seen coming sent him reeling backwards, snapping his head to the side, breaking the gaze.

'He sacrificed himself to Aizen in order to protect his comrades. And in doing so he doomed them. That is why they will fail; we do not possess such weak emotion. We are stronger than them. Now don't you ever speak to me like that again cub, or I'll make you regret it.' He growled as he turned on his heel, eager to leave this situation behind.

'Grimm?' The tone of Alejo's voice made him stop in his tracks, turning back momentarily. Alejo turned his face upwards, one hand touched to his red cheek and in his eyes Grimmjow saw a fluttering of innocent fear. 'I'm not a shinigami, am I?'

'Don't be stupid.' He growled aggressively. 'Shinigami can't become arrancar. When they die they don't come back.' _But you weren't just a shinigami, were you? _He mentally cursed himself for that thought, worried that Alejo would somehow be able to read what he was thinking. But he was still just a child, and he trusted him with that same childish innocence that he'd had ever since he was born.

'Okay.' His eyes cleared. He nodded softly, rubbing his cheek with the pads of his fingertips, the pain and redness already leaving his skin.

'Tch.' Grimmjow walked back to him, unsure quite how to react to all this. 'C'mon idiot, let's go _rest._' He smiled wolfishly as he grasped him by the wrist.'Aizen's orders.'

* * *

In a bedroom in a shop in the human world the candles were burning low, sending steam floating gently up in the cold air. A pale figure sat upon the bed, dressed in nothing but a ratty hakama. His pale torso seemed emaciated in the light of the candles, his arms lacked the muscle definition that they once had, now thinner than they had been since he was a lanky adolescent an age ago. His hair was still damp from the rain, and it hung heavy around his thin face and clung to his pale neck.

The blonde let his eyes slip shut as he massaged his temples. The lack of sleep was weighing heavy on his mind and body, and the events of the previous night had done little to ease his mind. Dawn was breaking outside of the window but the first rays of sunlight did not reach him through his reverie.

Isshin had taken the news better than he had expected, better than he himself had taken it. He supposed it was more out of fear of disturbing the girls that he had not shouted or swore or thrown objects at his head. To say that he had remained stoic throughout their exchange would be an exaggeration, he had never seen Isshin go so pale or look so lifeless as he had done when he had heard the news. But when all was said and done, when circumstantial evidence was discussed and half-baked plans were made, he saw that spark of life back in his old friend's eyes, a spark that been extinguished as he stood by the grave of his son. And they parted, not on good terms, but on ones partially better than they had left each other at their last encounter. Isshin was still a long way from forgiveness, and Urahara was a long way from feeling he had earned any.

As he held his head in his hands his thoughts turned to older memories, revisiting a scene that he had not dared think on for the longest time.

_'I can't go back to how I was.' Ichigo broke the silence again as he shifted slightly in Urahara's arms. 'There's no way back. So it's no use dwelling upon the past. I have to move forward, just like I've always done, right?' He didn't look towards Urahara for an answer, and the blonde remained silent, letting him get his thoughts in order, only responding by means of hugging him tighter to his chest. After a moment Ichigo continued, 'As long as I still have them, the people I was fighting for, my family, my friends, and you… I'll be alright. As long as I can be here with everyone, I can move forward with them.'_

He would never forget those words, the determination in his resolution. That promise had come from a damaged mind, a youth who had been through the worst kinds of hell and emerged intact. He had no right to sit here wallowing in pity any longer, not now that there was something he could do, now that there was the slightest bit of hope that he could somehow redeem himself for breaking his promise.

He kept making that promise to him and he kept breaking it. Ichigo had made the decision to move forward, and now he would do the same, but he would not do it alone. He would move forward together with Ichigo, or die trying.

* * *

_A/N: Just over a week since my last update, don't say I'm not good to you guys (occasionally). Hope everyone's having a good new year so far. _

_I think I liked this chapter better than the previous few, what do you guys think? Big things are about to happen as we get closer towards the finale, and I'm going to try to speed up the updates, but I'm back at Uni soon so no promises. _

_Speaking of which, looking back over Part 2 reviews I've realised that you guys have differing opinions on the whole GrimmIchi business, so here's your chance to have your say! I wrote in GrimmIchi for a number of reasons, mainly to fill the smut gap that dominates the second half of this story, but also to further contrast Ichigo/Alejo, illustrating a breaking away from emotion and the emptiness that is left behind. But smut for smut's sake isn't always a good thing in stories like these, so I'm going to have a vote on whether or not to have more GrimmIchi lemon in the next chapter. You can vote when you review, just leave a comment voting 'yay' or 'nay'.  
_

_As always, thanks for reading,  
K x_


	22. Broken Bridge

**Chapter 22: Broken Bridge**

'_All my rooms are filled with musty dust  
Time has taken all that I possess  
I never know if to laugh or to scream  
To hate or to believe _

_Your hair is messy  
Your frown is soft  
You try to be harsh, but you know you're so loved  
I will toss myself down at your will  
You know you kill… _

_How could you walk across that broken bridge…?'_

The meeting room was unusually silent. It had been a long time since these people had been in the same room together; indeed the separate groups of human and shinigami had not freely associated since Ichigo was taken from them and Soul Society put on lock down. The shinigami present had each made a choice to disobey their orders and come to the Urahara Shoten in secrecy, for each of them cared deeply for their fallen comrade, and conscience would not allow them rest after what had happened to him.

Urahara stood at the head of the table, his guests seated around it. He still appeared noticeably gaunt and pale, but invigoration had taken hold of his body once more. The ghost of the ex-captain which had haunted the shop over the past months had once again been made flesh, the light of hope had been reignited in his soul and it shone through his pale grey eyes, glinting machiavellian once more. Yoruichi was pleased to see that he was wearing his hat again, that was a good sign.

Around the scuffed table usually reserved for housing various explosive and corrosive experiments sat his comrades. It was the evening after Alejo had made his appearance in Karakura Town and the meeting had only been called that morning, but even those amongst them who did not know exactly what it was about had all answered the call. Each of them had been invited here because Urahara felt in his heart that he could trust them, for he knew that each would fight for Ichigo and the chance to bring him back. Rukia; Renji; Orihime; Ishida; Chad; Yoruichi and Tessai were the obvious attendees, but it came as somewhat of a surprise to the others who else were present at the meeting: Shinji, Ukitake and Shunsui also sat amongst their ranks, each currently battling with their personal thoughts over the news they had just received.

Ishida looked suspiciously at the two captains, wondering why Urahara had seen fit to invite Yamamoto's most trusted two here into the middle of this delicate situation. They were good men and had shown themselves to be by their actions during Ichigo's initial invasion of Seireitei, but this situation was huge and would have disastrous repercussions upon Soul Society if left unchecked. If they went to the Captain-Commander with the news he was sure they would lose any chance they had of getting Ichigo back. Ishida's fears were confirmed when Ukitake spoke up.

'I do not know if we can keep this a secret.' His voice was soft, he sounded calmer than any of them felt.

'We must.' Urahara's voice held steady, authoritative and commanding in the tense air that hung around them all. 'Or else we lose all hope of ever getting him back.'

'You cannot do this alone Kisuke.' Ukitake rubbed his temple gently with the forefinger and middle finger of his right hand, his weary frustration showing through in his actions if not his voice. 'I know what you feel for the boy, but Soul Society needs to know what has happened to him, this has huge implications for Aizen's plans.'

'I can't!' Urahara leant forward as if to emphasise his point, his palms placed flat on the table top to keep them from clenching into fists as he spoke. 'Don't you understand what will happen to him if I do? He'll be branded a traitor, just like they did to Rukia. They not allow Aizen to have him. They know how dangerous he is. They will hunt him down and they will kill him, or he them. I cannot allow that to happen.' He shook his head gently, his eyes shutting momentarily at some remembered pain or sorrow. Ukitake sighed softly. Despite the biased situation that the shopkeeper found himself in Ukitake knew that, as usual, what Urahara spoke was the truth.

'Be that as it may, it may be your only option. After all you have no way of knowing if you can turn him back.' Shinji spoke up as he leant back lazily, his long arms draped over the back of his chair. 'You can't fix a soul once it's been ripped in two like that.' He narrowed his snake like eyes at Urahara and the blonde felt that familiar pang of guilt in his stomach that he always experienced when he looked upon any of the vizards. 'You of all people should know that.'

'I have to try.' He straightened up, removing his hands from the table as he composed himself, curling his fingers by his side.

'So how do you propose to make him remember?' Shunsui's heavy voice caught everyone's attention. He hadn't spoken a word thus far, quite unlike him, and a profound silence followed in the wake of his question.

'I told you, it's not just a case of making him remember. His soul has been ripped apart, don't you get that?' Shinji scowled as he also straightened up in his seat, his drawling tone replaced now with quiet anger. 'He's gone beyond human, beyond shinigami, even beyond vizard, something that I did not think possible. The hollow is in control now.' He paused in his ranting for a moment, the fury going out of his voice to leave only a terrible sadness behind. 'Ichigo is gone.'

'I don't think so.' The shopkeeper murmured, his eyes glinting in the fading light.

'Of course you don't.' Shinji spoke as though he was unsure whether to berate him or show sympathy. The relationship between the two of them was complicated and constantly in flux, and right then he was torn between comforting him and trying to rip the blindfold of ignorance from his eyes.

'Urahara is right.' Ishida's calm voice cut through the tense atmosphere, everyone turning their heads in surprise at the quincy who was usually so sceptical.

'Just hear me out.' Urahara asked as everyone turned their attention back to him, the question directed mainly at Shinji. His scowl softened as he relented, nodding his head slightly at the shopkeeper.

He stood for a moment to collect himself before he began to explain. 'This isn't the first time Ichigo's soul has changed, far from it. You're forgetting, he's been a hollow now for a long time. At least, part of him has. The only thing that has changed now is the dominant personality. He's always been a hybrid, a mixture of shinigami, human and hollow, but up until now he had always retained control over his darker half.'

'How can you be sure that Ichigo is still alive in there?' Rukia asked, her wide eyes shining with sadness. 'You saw him Urahara, those eyes…'

'I know.' Urahara winced a little at the recollection of that memory, but steeled himself and continued. 'If we're lucky he's still there, buried deep within the arrancar's subconscious.'

'And if we're not?' Renji asked tentatively. The question hung in the air for a moment, nobody willing to admit the answer that they already knew.

'…There's no way to know for sure that his personality is still alive.' Shinji muttered as broke the silence. 'If anyone could find a way to kill him off it would be _Aizen._' His eyes shone with hatred as he practically spat the ex-captain's name.

'How will we know?' Ukitake murmured, his frail voice still holding calm and steady as his mind worked.

'We can't.' Urahara shook his head softly. 'There's only one way to find out.' Silence descended again as everybody thought about what that might mean.

'So theoretically all we have to do is bring Ichigo back to the surface. Going back to my original question, how do you propose to do that?' Shunsui reiterated his question. 'What about you Orihime? Can you reject it?' The redhead turned wide eyes towards the shinigami captain and shook her head forlornly.

'It's too big, and it happened too long ago. The wound left by time has long been healed.' She said dreamily, earning a few sideways glances from those at the table. Nobody knew quite how Orihime's strange powers worked, even she herself would admit to knowing little but this much she knew in her heart. 'It's too much for even my powers to reject.' Her eyes shone with pain and at that moment everyone knew that she had not and would never forgive herself for what she perceived to be her fault in causing this situation. Urahara shot her a sympathetic glance, but it was short lived for he had little sympathy left for anyone else right now he had wasted so much on himself.

'We have formulated another plan.' He nodded softly at Ishida as he motioned for him to explain. 'Go ahead Ishida.'

Everybody in the room looked slightly confused, since when had Urahara and Ishida began collaborating? But they could not know of what had happened that morning, the scheming that had taken place between the two of them, Isshin and, most surprisingly of all, Ishida's father, Ryūken. Following on from the events of the previous night they had come together once more, and despite Ryūken's annoyance at the presence of his son together they had worked on the problem. Ryūken had declined to attend the current meeting, stating that the only reason he came in the first place was out of some misplaced loyalty to a couple of washed up shinigami and that he had no desire to willingly put himself in the presence of more shinigami. But his help had been invaluable nevertheless, the aloof quincy somehow knowing an inordinate amount about the inner workings of the souls of both shinigami and hollow. _Know thy enemy, _he had quipped when questioned about this, and Urahara had no doubt that he did.

Ishida began to explain.

'Think of the brain as a computer, because basically it is. One massive organic computer.' The humans nodded, understanding the analogy. The shinigami looked confused, catching the gist of what Ishida was meaning but none of them entirely sure just what exactly a computer was. Something like those huge hissing things Kurotsuchi kept in the research department they believed. 'When something extremely traumatic happens, say the treatment he endured whilst captive,' He shot Urahara a glance, not missing the way his jaw tightened at the mention of what Aizen had done to his lover, 'followed by hollowfication, the transforming of the body and psyche, the brain is going to shut down completely and the hard drive, that is, the memory banks of the brain undergo reformatting. So as he changes the old memories are wiped.' He paused to push his glasses further up his nose, a subtle tick that betrayed his emotions on an otherwise stoic face. 'I suspect that the reason he never showed any memory loss after his other transformations is due to the fact that they were not nearly as traumatic.'

'Okay so they've reformatted him.' Renji said, looking smug at the surprised stares his observation gained him from those sat around the table. He shrugged. 'What? I learned a little when I was at that stupid human school. Anyway, how the hell does that help us?'

'Well, it depends if the brain does the same thing as a computer does when it comes under attack.' Ishida replied matter-of-factly.

'What?' Renji and Rukia spoke in unison, eager for the quincy to get to the point.

'It saves a backup copy.' These words set off sparks of hope in the minds of all present, even those who did not fully understand what a computer was. 'If I'm right, Ichigo's memories should still be there somewhere buried deep within his mind. Retrieving them simply involves the matter of finding the correct key, or password, to unlock them.'

'What kind of key?' Shunsui may not have fully understood what the young quincy had just said, but those last words rang true in his mind.

'What we need to do is access a particular memory. Something powerful, something that will cause his backup systems to reboot, if you get my meaning.'

'Like what?' Rukia asked, the hopeful excitement in her tone fading as she spoke. 'We stood before him and called him by his name and he didn't show a glimmer of recognition.'

'I imagine that was the point.' Urahara spoke again and everyone turned to look at him, his tone changed, his face set and grim. 'Aizen probably sent him here to confront us with the purpose of testing if he showed any recognition.' _That and for his own sick pleasure, _he thought bitterly.

'Somehow we need to make him remember something powerful, something important, and preferably something happy.' Ishida continued, shooting a sideways glance at Urahara, aware that he was treading on his territory here. 'Unnecessary trauma may trigger recognition, but it will only make him worse in the long run.'

They all sat in silence again for a moment, each digesting the information they had just heard. Urahara gave them a moment before speaking. He understood how they felt, he himself was still reeling from it all and he'd had much more time to think it over.

'His soul has changed, that is most likely irreversible without the hōgyoku and still incredibly dangerous with it. His body and his powers are different now, but let's be honest, Ichigo changes like that about every other week.' The shopkeeper couldn't help but smile a little at that thought, the corners of his mouth twitching ever so slightly in a way that they had not done in in months.

'So he'll…' Orihime started the sentence but could not bring herself to finish, her face paled with horror.

'Still physically be an arrancar, yes. At least his soul will be.' Urahara felt his insides contort sickeningly at that thought and he took a breath to clear his mind. 'But he's not just an arrancar: he's an arrancar, a hollow, a shinigami and a human hybrid. He could still return to his physical body when he was a vizard so there is no reason why he wouldn't be able to now. All we need is to restore the psyche.' His shoulders slumped a little as he murmured, 'All we need is Ichigo back.' _At least, that's all I need._

'What do you propose to make him remember?' Ukitake murmured. 'We all know his drive, his motivation: his friends, but confronted by them he showed no recognition. It's going to need to be something bigger than that.' He paused for a moment, absentmindedly playing one strand of white hand between long fingers. 'Is there anything bigger than that? His family?' Urahara shook his head.

'Too dangerous. Isshin, as much as it pains him, is going to have to sit this one out. He will not risk the safety of his daughters.' A grimace of pain crossed his face at the thought. 'He is trusting us to bring his son back.'

'So what then?' Ukitake pondered, not so much a direct question as him just thinking out loud to himself.

'Leave that to me.' Urahara grit his teeth, determination evident in his voice.

'How are you even going to get close to him?' Shunsui asked curiously, 'Surely you are not going to attempt to breach Las Noches again?'

'No, too dangerous.' Another shake of his blonde hatted head. 'Aizen will be expecting an attack and this time he will not let anyone leave. No, we're just going to have to wait for him to reappear. Though I fear this will not be until Aizen makes his move.' He bit his lip, fully aware of the fact that this left them with a very small window in which to operate.

'Soul Society is prepared for that.' Ukitake replied, 'However they are not prepared for Ichigo. But I will keep your secret; I just hope that you know what you are doing.'

'As do I my friend.' Urahara managed a wan smile at him in thanks, but there was little emotion behind it.

'You know what you're going to have to do if you fail.' Her voice cut the atmosphere in the room like a knife. Urahara paused in his pretence of a smile as he looked to the speaker.

Yoruichi and Tessai had sat at the back of the room in silence up until this point, both consumed by their own private thoughts on the matter. It was Yoruichi who had spoken. Kisuke was and had always been her best friend, but he had a habit of getting carried away on his own waves in matters such as these. Once again it was up to her to play devil's advocate.

'I know.' His words escaped in barely a whisper, the admission hanging a huge weight upon his heart.

'Can you do it, if it comes to that?' She asked. The question was genuine, it was one perhaps best asked in private but he needed to admit it here before everyone. She needed to see his resolve. 'Can you kill him?'

Orihime let out a squeak, her small hand seeking out Ishida's underneath the table. Everyone in the room stiffened, even Chad who had shown little reaction throughout the exchange seemed to blanch at those words. Everyone looked to Urahara for a reaction.

'I can.'

'How can you say that about Ichigo?' Rukia stood up from her chair, tears shining in her eyes though she tried desperately to will them away.

'Rukia…' Renji's voice was wary, he never was very good at talking her down when she got worked up. He reached out for her hand but she shook him off.

'No!' She shook her head at him. 'You love him don't you? How can you say you would kill him?'

'What would you have me do!?' Urahara snapped, taking everyone by surprise. He raised his head and the light caught the pain contained in grey eyes beneath the shadows of his hat. 'I won't let anybody else touch him ever again. If he has to die again it will be by my hands, no others.' He relaxed his tone and his shoulders, worried that he had shown too much of his insides. 'One way or another I will save him from what he has become, or I will give my life trying.'

'How touching.' Shinji teased, but Urahara knew that he did not mean anything by it. It was his way; the vizard hid his fear beneath a mocking cloak. 'Okay, so you've got a crazy plan that most likely won't work and will probably get us all killed.' A wide smile split the vizard's face, all traces of anger gone from his lanky body. 'That sounds just like something he'd do.'

The atmosphere in the room lightened, some of the tension dissipating as Rukia took her seat again. Small smiles curled at the corner of several people's mouths as they thought of Ichigo. He was the reason, he was the motivation and they were all ready to fight and risk their lives for him, just as he would for them.

'So what now?' Renji asked, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, his eyes alight with anticipation now that there was work to be done, a challenge to be risen to. Urahara looked around the room, taking in the faces of all those who had gathered. Yoruichi gave him a small smile from the shadows in the back of the room and he felt something inside of him tighten. He drew himself up to his full height again as he reached into his pocket to retrieve another item that hadn't seen use in a long time. His face was set but his eyes were dancing as he flicked his fan out in front of his face.

'Now we prepare.'

* * *

His skin was as pale as the moonlight, laid upon the wall like a beam sent from the omnipresent moon that hung in the sky just outside the window. The red mark that slashed his face was like a bloody mark, a symptom of battle, of the clashing of teeth and skin. The panther was busy adding more marks to his skin, red lines and purple welts upon the face of the moon. Strong hands fisted in flaming hair, long strands twisted through thick fingers, falling to cut more lines upon pale and tanned skin alike. His breath condensed in the cold air and he produced little clouds with each gasp, each moan, each curse that found its way past his lips.

Alejo whimpered as those hands moved from his hair, tracing downwards across his exposed chest leaving feather light touches along the curve of his hollow hole. His cold skin burned as it connected with Grimmjow's fingertips, even the tepidness of the espada's skin felt like fire to the touch.

They usually fought each other for dominance but this time Grimmjow took control, his form of payback for their earlier altercation. He snarled as he rolled his hips against the young arrancar, drawing further soft noises from the redhead. Neither spoke. Words were not needed in their embraces; there was no emotion to be shared between them. They were as animals copulating beneath the pale moon.

Alejo's breath caught in a moan as sharp teeth assaulted his skin, breath as hot as flame washing over his sensitive earlobe as the sexta panted in his ear. The heady noise sent shivers running up and down his spine. He subconsciously let his head fall back to expose more of his neck to the panther's assault, and Grimmjow responded vigorously. Sharp teeth grazing his neck harder than before, hard enough to add further marks to the abused skin. Alejo bit his bottom lip and shuddered. He wanted to speak, to beg, but he knew that was exactly what Grimmjow wanted him to do. Every breath was lost in a moan anyway, words trapped behind gasping pants and sighs that were eventually smothered by a harsh kiss. There were more teeth than was entirely comfortable but Alejo responded in kind. He may be forced into submission but that did not mean that he had to sit back and do nothing, after all that was not in his nature.

He fought the panther's tongue with his own, teeth clashing just as much as lips. Grimmjow ground his hips harder up into his own; demanding, fervent movements, each one pushing both of them closer to the edge. Grimmjow felt rather than heard the choked sounds he made in the back of his throat, muffled by his tongue and vibrating upon his lips. He was moaning now too as he ground their hips together, the motion less teasing and more needy than before.

He moved to assault Alejo's neck again, relishing the cry that escaped the redhead's lips as he nipped at a particularly sensitive spot. Alejo raised a hand to tangle in his hair but he slapped it away, grabbing his wrist to pin against the wall, reminding him who was in charge this time. Grimmjow drew back to inspect his work, the cuts and bruises upon his neck, his hair wild and eyes wilder above his full panting mouth, his bottom lip split from the mockery of a kiss. Alejo was full of fire and lust and Grimmjow could not wait any longer, his hackles had been raised even since their altercation in the hallway. The minute he had been shoved against the wall he had been waiting to do the same to Alejo, to remind the young thing who was in charge here. He had not had to wait long, pushing him against the door and tearing his shirt from him the moment they had entered their quarters. It had taken all of what little self-control he had to not simply do it to him then and there in the hallway where anyone could walk by._ I wonder what Aizen would make of that? _He smirked to himself as he pressed his thumb against Alejo's abused bottom lip, drawing from the redhead a gasp and a thin line of blood from the corner of his mouth down his chin. _I wonder what he would think to see me using his pet like this, to know that I'm the one who gets to make him scream now. _The redhead breathed heavily against his hand, flicking his tongue against the pad of his thumb in a challenge, one that Grimmjow would not hesitate to answer.

Grasping Alejo's shoulders Grimmjow flipped him around unceremoniously and slammed his front against the cold wall. He took his thin wrists in one hand and raised them above his head, watching the muscles and shoulder blades flex beneath the pale skin of his back. He pressed Alejo's hands against the wall, palms flat, and growled a command into his ear.

'Keep your hands there until I tell you otherwise.'

Grimmjow's breath was hot in his ear and Alejo swallowed hard at the sensation. His wrists were released from the bruising grip but he obeyed, keeping his hands raised above his head, leaving his body completely exposed. He shivered as strong fingers slid down his back, over the curves of muscle and lines of scar tissue, pressing and prodding. Hot breath against his back as those strong hands arrived to cup his ass, drawing breathless moans and squirms from the redhead pressed against the wall as Grimmjow kneaded the soft flesh. Thick fingers slipping in between the skin of his hips and the cloth of his hakama, pulling the bleached cloth from his body, past his hips to pool at his feet. A hand in between his legs, pushing them apart, leading him to expose himself further.

A fierce blush painted Alejo's face now at the feeling of being so exposed before his still fully clothed partner, something which Grimmjow was well aware of. For an arrancar as fierce in bed as he was in battle Alejo was often surprisingly coy during this type of submissive foreplay, but the panther knew that he would not be able to contain his voice once he was buried deep inside of him. Just the thought of it made his trousers tighten even further and he swallowed hard. He needed this after what had happened, and the half muffled whimpers he was dragging from Alejo told him that right now he needed it just as badly as Grimmjow did.

He laughed softly in Alejo's ear as he ran a rough hand up and down his inner thighs, feeling the shivers that ran across the surface of his pale skin. His other hand slid around Alejo's body to trace lines across his chest, his fingers dancing from one raised bud to the next, pinching them, feeling the moans he drew from the younger arrancar vibrating in his chest. His hand wandered lower, brazenly palming the others erection. Grimmjow ran his nose along the curve of Alejo's neck as he massaged the engorged flesh, the redhead's breathing growing ragged as he fought to maintain control. He rolled his hips forward into the small of Alejo's back, breathing heavily into his ears as he slid his hand up the back of his white thighs.

Without warning Grimmjow pressed his fingers inside of him, smirking at the sound that issued from Alejo's lips as he did so. The dual sensation was almost too much for the smaller male, his arms shook from their position still above his head. He wanted to touch the other man, to fist his fingers in his blue hair, to scrape and tease his flesh as he had done to him. But this was all just a game and he was determined not to give in, to admit just how wound up he was, no matter how tempting it had become to do so.

He felt Grimmjow's length press insistently at his entrance and he swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists against the wall in anticipation of what was about to happen. The taller man bit at his ear and moaned as he pushed roughly into him, burying himself as far into him as he could. It was all he could do not to scream at the sensation of being penetrated, of his sensitive muscles being stretched around Grimmjow. He bit his lip hard as the elder male pulled out almost fully before slamming back in again, striking that bundle of nerves within him that made his vision blur. He could not contain his voice then, a strangled cry that was half pain and half pleasure tore itself from his throat and Grimmjow smirked against the crook of his neck as he continued to move roughly inside of him.

The pace was fast and brutal and every raw hit of his prostate made Alejo's eyes roll back in their sockets. It was always like this with Grimmjow, wild and furious and both of them would not have had it any other way. It was a violent release of pent up tension that seemed to have no source yet constantly bubbled inside their chests, to them fucking was like fighting, an uninhibited dance that played out between them.

Grimmjow growled as he continued to thrust rhythmically into the smaller arrancar, the sensation of tight heat around him and the sound of his half muffled moans only spurred him on, encouraging him to move harder and faster into him. He gripped at Alejo's hips to pull him back into every thrust, fully aware that each one was pushing him closer to the edge. Alejo let his eyes slip shut as he felt one of Grimmjow's hands move from its bruising grasp upon his hips to stroke his length, cursing him through gritted teeth at the sudden sensory overload. He was wound so tight he was ready to snap, the slow burn already working its way upwards from his stomach.

It only took a few insistent strokes before his mind went white. The burn became a fire as it ripped through his body, scorching right the way through to his fingertips, turning his mind blank. Grimmjow felt Alejo's body shudder violently and tighten against him as he came, the muscles clenching around him drawing a feral moan from the espada. His hands clawed at the wall as his orgasm tore through him, crying out and moaning something that was lost to his ears in amongst the overwhelming wave of sensation.

The espada groaned at the sound of Alejo calling out his name. Knowing that he could make him come screaming his name was more of a turn on than anything else and he would never tire of doing so, of taking him further and further away from belonging to Aizen every time. He did not let up even momentarily, if anything his pace quickened as Alejo spilled himself over his hand, continuing to move inside of him at that same rough speed. The redhead gasped out moans and whimpers, the continued stimulation was almost painful in the wake of his mind-numbing orgasm. His legs were trembling and he no longer had the strength to hold his arms up, something which Grimmjow corrected by grasping his wrists in his hand again, pinning them to the wall once more. He held the smaller body there as he thrust wildly into him, feeling the impending build of his own end bearing down up him.

'Fuck!' He swore loudly as he pushed inside one last time, his body stilling and his entire weight pressing Alejo into the wall as he came. His orgasm ripped through him and his vision blurred, his breath coming in harsh pants. He might have called out Alejo's name but he couldn't remember. He could feel the redhead's heart fluttering against him like a caged bird and he smirked as he held the trembling body there for a few moments, allowing his free hand to wander across the expanse of the bared skin of Alejo's chest while he caught his breath.

When his hands were finally released Alejo found that he no longer had the strength to hold them there and this time they were allowed to fall back to his sides. His body slumped against Grimmjow's broad chest and he found strong arms encircling him in an uncharacteristicly comforting motion. He was too tired to question or even protest as Grimmjow dragged him over to the bed that they rarely made use of. He pushed him down upon the sheets and for a moment he thought that another round was imminent. But both were too spent after everything that had happened and besides, fucking on the bed wasn't Grimmjow's style. He preferred more inventive ways of doing things, holding him against the wall until his arms went numb being only one of many.

He sighed softly as he felt the espada's weight press down upon the mattress next to him. He almost turned and slid his arms around him reflexively but caught himself, unsure where that desire had come from. His eyes slipped shut and he listened to the sound of Grimmjow panting, still trying to catch his breath. He didn't speak and Alejo did not expect him too. It was a rarity that they ever bothered to share the same bed, only ever doing so when one of them was too exhausted to return to his own room, and pillow talk was certainly not going to enter into the equation here. He was content to just lie there, catching the last burning embers of the afterglow and listening to Grimmjow's panting breath even out, quickly turning to gentle slumbering snores.

But it was a nice feeling to lie beside him and the sound of his heavy breathing was comforting in a way that Alejo had never noticed before, like a long forgotten dream or memory that danced just outside the reach of his weary mind. The lullaby of his breathing sent the young arrancar off to sleep in a matter of moments, and as he hovered in the world between awareness and unconsciousness that feeling still tugged at the back of his mind. It hung there for a moment like a word on the tip of his tongue, like a connection that was so close to being made, until he slipped under and it disappeared into the darkness to be completely forgotten upon awaking.

But in his dreams it tormented him, his unconscious screaming in the darkness beneath the pale moon. The fleeting sensations came and went leaving behind nothing but the sharp smell of blood and that small voice crying out inside his head.

* * *

_A/N: So most of you were for the GrimmIchi, it was only supposed to be a short scene but after re-reading the wonderful 'Unexpected Baggage' by Raicheru I got a bit carried away with it. (If you're a GrimmIchi fan I encourage you to read 'Unexpected Baggage' because it is fantastic, easily one of the best AU fics I've ever read). So this chapter ended up way longer than I was planning, but it didn't feel right to cut it into two._

_I'm going to be busy over the next few weeks and I haven't really got the next few chapters planned out yet, but I'll try and get the next one out asap. Thanks for everyone's responses so far, you guys give me the push I need to keep going with this._

_K x_


	23. Polaris

**Chapter 23: Polaris**

_'Terror in your eyes, your heart is racing  
For the innocence we lost will not return  
We know we can't go on, but we're still holding on  
Don't let me be the one to drag you down._

_I was fighting at your side_  
_A knowing partner in this crime_  
_A beating heart, A distant star_  
_We lost all we were fighting for.'_

Alejo deflected a blow that seemed to come from nowhere, swords screeching as he fought to push his invisible attacker back. He swung outwards, throwing himself backwards as his unknown opponent was pushed in the opposite direction. Landing hard, he managed to keep two feet on the ground and barely caught himself from stumbling over onto his arse. His attacker was nowhere to be seen and suddenly he realised that he did not recognise where he was. His eyes flicked over the landscape, strangely familiar but he wasn't quite able to place it.

The air was warmer and the sky lighter than usual, the moon seemed brighter somehow. Glancing up he saw a thousand twinkling lights peppered across the sky and suddenly he recognised where he was. The human world. But why was he here, and who was attacking him so frantically?

And something else was missing, he felt lighter somehow. It wasn't until he instinctively swung his body around to deflect another blow that he realised what it was. As his attacker disappeared in a blur of white cloth he reached his hands up to his shoulders and realised that his heavy mane was gone. Running fingers through his scalp he was relieved to find his hair was still there, but so much shorter and spikier than usual. He frowned; his eyes darted from side to side as his fingers trailed down over his face. His stomach dropped as he ran fingers across his cheek, first one then the other until he was certain of it. His mask was gone. There were no reflections by which to see but somehow he knew that his birthmark was missing also. And his eyes… What colour were his eyes?

He looked down at his body and realised that his clothes were different too, black and tattered at the edges where they should have been white and clean cut. The robes closed over higher upon his chest and his stomach dropped as he realised that the flesh below them lacked the hole that marked him as an arrancar. He felt a heavy human heart beating in his chest and felt sick at the sensation.

What the hell was going on?

He heard a low chuckle from behind him and twirled around. But he was not quick enough. A sword pierced his chest where his hollow hole should have been. Looking down he saw the blade embedded in his flesh, running right through his solid human heart. The zanpakutō withdrew from his body and blood poured freely from the wound. He felt no pain but he was suddenly faint, unable to hold his body up. He stumbled over his feet and a white robed figure caught him, breaking his fall with strong arms. Blinking away the fog he looked up into the smirking face of Sōsuke Aizen.

He tried to speak but thick blood poured from his mouth. And Aizen just smiled that cold smile as he picked him up effortlessly in his arms. A cavernous black hole opened in the sky and Alejo was suddenly afraid. He didn't want to enter that gaping chasm, he feared to face whatever was on the other side. It was warm and bright here and he wanted to stay, but the choice was not his own as his capturer moved towards the garganta. He pushed weakly against the stronger man but all the energy was gone from his body and Aizen carried him in his arms as easily as one might hold a sleeping child.

Aizen stepped backwards into the doorway between worlds, as if he was deliberately allowing him to look upon this world one last time. Alejo struggled harder against him and more thick human blood poured from the wound on his chest. As the blood ran down his robes they changed colour, the black fading away to be replaced with bleached white. A strangled cry ripped from his lips and a sudden unknown fear took hold. He could feel his hair growing, it was already down to his shoulders, and a familiar weight was forming upon his face one more. But still he struggled and he did not know why. He reached out towards the human world as Aizen backed into the darkness, nearly fully through the doorway now, and it was then he managed to scream through the thick liquid falling from his lips. A single frantic word. He did not even know the meaning of it but the moment it left his lips he felt his heart die as it was ripped from his chest, leaving behind nothing but a hole.

Grimmjow was suddenly awake, bolt upright in bed. The kid was squirming and muttering in his sleep beside him. That in itself was not unusual, in fact it was the reason Grimmjow rarely bothered to stick around after their intimate encounters. The first time he'd been rudely awoken by a kicking Alejo in the midst of a bad dream he'd gotten a black eye that hadn't faded for days. Damn that kid was strong. But something was different this time, something had dragged him up from unconsciousness and it wasn't just the smaller arrancar's frantic movements upon the bed. He had said something, no, _screamed_ something in his sleep and Grimmjow hoped to whatever god existed higher than Aizen that he'd misheard what it was.

Alejo's squirming subsided and he rolled over onto his front, pressing his cheek into the pillow and burrowing into the sheets like a child hiding from monsters beneath the bed. He was still asleep but from the looks of it the dream was fading, his breaths evening out and becoming steadier. As Grimmjow leaned in close his keen ears pricked up and his suspicions were confirmed. The sense of loss in Alejo's voice almost took him aback as he heard him mutter that word one last time before fading back into the dark ink of sleep.

'Kisuke…'

_Oh shit. _Grimmjow swore inside his head. He wasn't sure what this meant but what he was sure of was that it could not be anything good. He got up from the bed and started pacing, his teeth gritted in annoyance. There was no way he was going to be able to get back to sleep, not after hearing Alejo say that name. The question of whether the redhead was fully conscious of what he had said was another matter. He turned the problem over in his mind as he paced, silently deliberating.

Normally he would rather have his arm cut off (again) than go running to Aizen whenever he had a problem, but this was big, no this was huge. If Alejo regressed somehow, regained his shinigami consciousness with his arrancar powers, Grimmjow wasn't sure if he would be able to beat him. Not that he wouldn't relish the challenge though. He grinned wolfishly, half hopeful that Alejo would experience such a lapse, that he would get to opportunity to fight him at full strength. No matter how hard Alejo came at him whilst they sparred he always held back, too aware of his own strength and too worried about hurting his partner. That always made Grimmjow so angry; he didn't need to be pitied, not by anyone and certainly not by Alejo.

He stalked backwards and forwards across the floor of the white bedroom for what seemed like hours, turning the decision over in his mind. His own disloyalty to Aizen wrestled with that small voice in his head which told him that this development was too dangerous to leave unchecked. Eventually he decided to interrogate Alejo further before he made a definite decision.

Alejo grumbled in his sleep when Grimmjow prodded him roughly in the side. He made a small sound of protest as he rolled over in a half-hearted attempt to edge away from the probing touches. Grimmjow growled softly at the dismissal and settled for fisting his thick fingers in long orange strands and tugging harshly. Alejo yelped loudly as he turned back over on the bed to face Grimmjow.

'What the hell!?' He growled as he struggled into a sitting position. He paused to rub at the new sore spot on his scalp, his familiar frown plastered firmly upon his face. 'What was that for!?'

'You were squirming around in your sleep again.' There was a hint of amusement in Grimmjow's voice, a façade to cover his inner turmoil. Though it was difficult to not be amused by the annoyance evident in the redhead's expression.

'Oh.' Alejo's frown lessened momentarily as a flash of guilt crossed his mind. Then he remembered how he'd been awoken and the scowl returned with a vengeance. 'Well you didn't have to be an asshole about it.'

'In case you haven't noticed cub, you're in my bed.' Grimmjow smirked, the connotations of that fact were not lost on either of them and Alejo felt his face start to flush slightly.

'So?' Alejo scowled to cover his blush as he regarded the taller arrancar suspiciously. Grimmjow grit his teeth as he forced himself to relax. The kid was stubborn and antagonising him was not going to get him to answer any questions.

'What were you dreaming about?' Alejo's eyebrows shot up at that question.

'Huh?' The frown returned along with his defences. 'What do you care?'

'Hey, if you're going to thrash around in my bed you're at least going to tell me why.' Grimmjow returned the scowl; his next to non-existent patience was already worn thin.

'I don't know.'

'What do you mean you don't know?'

'I mean I don't remember.' He snapped at him without any real venom behind it. That look of lost confusion returned and Grimmjow almost felt pity for the young arrancar. Almost. 'They're strange, disconnected. And I can never remember them when I wake up; I just know I've had them.'

'You don't remember anything about them?' Grimmjow made a face at him. He found it hard to believe that he could so easily forget something which caused such an intense reaction within him.

'No.' Alejo muttered sulkily as he returned the grimace. 'I know it's weird but I honestly don't.'

'Right.'

There was one more thing he had to know, one more push to get at the truth of the matter. He sat down on the bed beside Alejo, noticing how he flinched slightly at the sudden closeness, regarding him with wary eyes.

'What?' The redhead asked with suspicion evident in his voice. Grimmjow suddenly appeared deadly serious, an expression that he wasn't sure he had ever seen upon the panther's face.

Grimmjow took a breath.

'Does the name Kisuke Urahara mean anything to you?'

Alejo felt the weight of that question upon him like a thick blanket. He blinked as he tried to work out why it felt so heavy, so important. But he could think of nothing. There was not even the slightest glimmer in the back of his mind.

'No.' He sounded sure about that. The tension lifted from Grimmjow's body, and Alejo felt his own relax along with him. He raised an eyebrow, easily brushing off the sudden edgy moment. 'Should it?'

'No, just wondered.' The panther muttered as he rose from the bed.

'Alright then.' Alejo narrowed his eyes at him as he headed for the door, still unsure as to what Grimmjow had being trying to get at. 'Can I go back to sleep now?'

'Whatever.' Now Grimmjow wasn't quite sure what to say. On the one hand he was almost sure that Alejo hadn't had a relapse. The cub was a bad liar at the best of times and he had been telling the truth when he said that he didn't remember anything. He hadn't even blinked at the sound of the shopkeeper's name. On the other hand; he knew that this did not mean that the risk was non-existent.

As he left the subject of his confusion sleeping peacefully in his own quarters he consoled himself that he had come a little closer to answering the question. As much as he would love to see Aizen's plans messed up, he knew that his own fate was tied inexorably to that of the succession of the lord's scheme. He had no wish to die fighting Aizen's war. But he was sure that Alejo was safe; he was grounded by consciousness and presented no threat in his sleep. A little voice in the back of his mind suggested that the thing he truly feared was what Aizen would do to Alejo if he knew what he had been saying in his sleep.

'_Ridiculous.' _He would have laughed at the thought if the mere suggestion of it didn't irritate him beyond belief. Gritting his teeth, he growled and slammed a fist into the wall, creating a spider web of cracks breaking up the marble. His reiatsu flared and his bloodlust spiked and he was tempted to return to his quarters to drag Alejo from his bed. The momentary urge was replaced by another when he caught the sharp scent of Nnoitra's presence close by. The perfect sparring partner. He headed in the direction of the fifth espada, now here was an opponent who would have no qualms about holding back.

* * *

Alejo groaned sleepily as he blinked away sleep from heavy eyelids. For a moment he thought that Grimmjow had returned to annoy him, but after a moment he realised that the insistent tapping came not from a finger in his side but from a noise beating at the edge of his senses. As the whitewashed world came blearily into focus around him he realised that someone was knocking gently, yet persistently, at the door. He grumbled softly as he begrudgingly dragged himself from the bed, noting somewhere in the back of his mind that the bed he was in was Grimmjow's. Not that it mattered as their quarters were shared, so whoever it was knocking at the door wouldn't be surprised to see him there.

Halfway across the room he paused to hastily pull his hakama back on, covering his state of undress from the previous night and only blushing slightly as he remembered what had transpired. He pulled the door open to silence the tapping and was surprised to see an unknown male arrancar standing there.

'Alejo-sama.' The arrancar bowed low as he addressed him. Alejo blinked in surprise. From the way he had saluted him and the cut of his uniform he guessed that he was one of Aizen's low level messengers. His stomach flipped a little at the connotations.

'Aizen-sama requests your presence in the throne room.' The unnamed envoy relayed his message with an expressionless tone. Alejo could do nothing but nod in return as his mouth went dry, from excitement or fear he was not entirely sure. He hadn't expected to be called back to him so soon after the strange outcome of his last mission and was even less sure what it could mean that he had been.

He shut the door as the messenger departed and ran his hands through his hair. He felt dirty and thought that he should really take a quick shower, but even the most disrespectful arrancar knew better than to keep Aizen waiting when summoned. He settled for a quick change of clothes, picking a set from the rack of identical outfits that hung in his closet. Pulling the white garments over his head, he took care to smooth the cloth out over his body, suddenly very concerned with how he looked. He scowled at the marks that Grimmjow had left upon his skin as he tugged at the neck of his outfit, hoping in vain that the bruises would go unnoticed.

As he left his quarters and made his way to the throne room he hesitantly reached out with his reiatsu, searching up and down identical white hallways for the panther's presence. It wasn't that he particularly wanted to see his sparring partner at the moment, but practicing his reiatsu control was made easier by seeking out a familiar energy. And there was none as familiar to him as that of the sexta. He had been getting slightly better at controlling the flow of his power recently but he still needed a lot of practice. He let his search distract him from his worries as he walked, focusing on seeking out Grimmjow's presence. He poured his soul into the search but found himself unable to recover that feeling of total attunement which he had experienced in the human world. Strange, that being in such a strange world had made things so much clearer to him.

By the time he reached his destination he had not been able to single out the blue haired espada, his presence lost within a nearby knot of other strong powers which he was unable to detangle. Shaking off the search he paused outside the door for a moment to steel himself for whatever it was which was about to happen. He stepped cautiously into the room, his body trembling ever so slightly as it met the icy air that always shrouded the throne room. The atmosphere was intense, the marble room drenched in the cold power that seemed to emanate from Aizen himself. Then Alejo understood why he had felt that huge muddled tangle of reiatsu.

All of the espada were here. They lined the floor of the room, five a side leading up to the throne. To the left stood the _primera_ through to the _quinto_: Starrk; Baraggan; Harribel; Ulquiorra and Nnoitra. Facing them to the right was the _sexta _through to the _diez_: Grimmjow; Zommari; Szayel; Aaroniero and Yammy. Starrk and Grimmjow were closest to the throne where Gin and Tousen stood at either side of Aizen, the rest of the espada lined up beside them in descending order. Alejo's black and yellow eyes flicked up and down their ranks. He noticed that both Grimmjow and Nnoitra were sporting fading battle wounds, the eye-patched man's sneer more prevalent than usual.

Grimmjow's hakama and jacket were tattered and dirty. A fresh and painful looking pink slash streaked across his abdominals, cutting through the centre of his hollow hole. He looked like he'd been fighting and in typical Grimmjow fashion had evidently not bothered changing before coming here. Alejo caught his bright blue eyes in a glance and Grimmjow made a face at him before looking away. The redhead scowled inwardly at the dismissal but shook it off as he headed towards Aizen, his eyes still flicking between the silent lines of espada.

The lord sat framed by his warriors and smiled at Alejo as he made his way down between the lines to the throne. His expression was a mask of gentleness which Alejo instinctively knew was insincere. He could feel the stare of each espada weighing down upon his body as he made his way past them and the cold atmosphere somehow felt heavier the closer he got to Aizen. He looked up. Their eyes met and Alejo felt his breath leave his body, his lungs suddenly filled with ice.

'Aizen-sama.' He greeted him breathlessly, his long orange hair falling across his shoulders as he dipped his head in a bow. He could almost feel Grimmjow's sneer and hear the panther calling him a sycophant for that small action.

'Alejo.' Aizen nodded his head slightly at Alejo, the gentle disguise never wavering. 'How are you feeling?'

'Very well.' A slight white lie, but Alejo knew that Aizen did not really care for the answer. It was a formality, and formalities were important to his lord.

'Good.' He replied disinterestedly before falling into silence. His eyes pierced Alejo's as though they were searching for something within the yellow of his iris. Alejo felt his insides freezing over, the ice spreading from his stomach through his veins. If it reached his heart it might just stop. But he held the gaze, waiting for his superior to speak.

'How long have you been here in the palace Alejo?' The casual tone of Aizen's voice came as a contrast to the atmosphere of the room and Alejo blinked in surprise.

'I don't know, Aizen-sama.' And he did not. For concepts of time were not ones which he bothered himself with. Being as it was, there was no real method of charting time amongst the arrancar in Hueco Mundo anyway. 'All my life.'

Aizen smiled at the simplistic answer. The lack of the day and night cycle of the other worlds meant that time moved differently here, and thus the inhabitants experienced it in a different way from the humans and the shinigami. A lesser man would not have bothered to keep count of all the days and nights that had passed in the other realms, but Aizen knew. Since Alejo's birth and the shinigami's death just over two months had passed in the human world. Roughly translated, that time equated to almost two full years in the hollow world.

Alejo was nearly two years old.

'In all that time did you ever wonder why I never gave you a number?'

Alejo's ears pricked up, his mind and body suddenly alert and suspicious. The ice in the pit of his stomach melted as an excited spark of fire flooded his body. He paused for a moment, unsure how to answer. Was this one of Aizen's little tests?

'A little.' He said hesitantly. The truth was that he had often pondered that question. His power was superior to that of the sixth espada without even releasing his zanpakutō, yet Aizen seemed to pay little attention to him. Grimmjow had told him that if he wanted a number he would have to take it by force, but somehow he could not see Aizen tolerating him going around killing his espada. So he had remained silent, waiting for his opportunity, for his explanation. Perhaps this was it.

'When you were born you were powerful, yet still a child.' Aizen's expression told him that he knew everything that he had been thinking and Alejo shivered despite the heat in his stomach. 'Now you are full grown, and have earned the right to join the ranks of the espada.'

Alejo flicked his eyes back to the arrancar which stood either side of him. He tried to catch Grimmjow's gaze but saw him staring disinterestedly in a different direction. Fire was dancing excitedly in his stomach and he wasn't quite sure how to react. He settled for bowing his head curtly as he murmured,

'Thank you, Aizen-sama.'

'I had always intended for you to be at the head of my forces.' Alejo raised his eyebrows in surprise. That he had not expected. 'But there is a problem. For you see, I already have a _cero_.'

Alejo's eyebrows furrowed as Aizen smiled, the previous softness of the expression replaced by a slow, sly cruelty. He raised a pale hand and Alejo heard movement behind him. Instinctively he whirled around to be faced with the hulking frame of Yammy. The tenth espada did not move to attack him, but rather just stepped out of his place in the line to stand behind him, a sneer curling at his thick lips. After studying his face for a moment Alejo turned back to Aizen, regarding him with a wary confusion and being met by that cold smile.

'You will fight for the honour of becoming an espada. But make no mistake, there is no going back. If you are not ready to lead my army by now then you are no longer of any use to me.' His eyes glittered with cold malice but Alejo held their gaze. 'If you fail, you will die. If not by Yammy's hand then by my own.' Nobody but Aizen noticed the way Grimmjow's jaw tightened as he spoke those words.

'I will not fail.' Alejo clenched his own jaw as he spoke, his face set in determination as he felt his hair stand on end. The fervour in his stomach roared as he flexed his fingers in anticipation. A demonic smile curled at the corner of his lips and Grimmjow once again thought how much that expression mirrored his lord's.

Aizen's smile widened at the resolution displayed upon Alejo's face, the hellfire burning in his eyes. The torn and broken soul had become a splendid warrior once again, now bent to serve him and him alone. Now was his final test, and should he succeed Soul Society and the human world would not stand a chance. They would burn before him and he would step over the ashes of the worlds destroyed by one of their own.

He stood from his perch upon the throne and each of the espada automatically looked to him for orders. But Alejo did not flinch, just held his determined gaze as Aizen silently made his way towards him. They were within a foot of each other when Aizen reached out to place his hand upon Alejo's shoulder, the touch freezing his skin beneath the white cloth of his uniform. Despite the coldness of the touch Alejo felt an unpleasantly familiar heat burning through his veins, the origin of which he had no knowledge of. Aizen's fingers plunged through the long silky hair which lay upon the redhead's shoulder and he felt it move beneath his fingers as he squeezed ever so slightly. Those black and yellow eyes were still upon him as he lifted his hand and walked past.

He gave his order.

'Follow me.'

And Alejo obeyed, turning to tail him from the room. He in turn was followed by the lines of espada, still standing in ranking order. And Yammy brought up the rear, cracking his knuckles as he followed. The kid had no idea what he was capable of and the diez fully intended to let him find out in the most painful way possible. The young arrancar may have had a fierce determination but the tenth had his own to challenge it.

Nobody replaced Yammy Llargo.


	24. All In White

**Chapter 24: All In White**

'_Break me on the thirty seventh hour…  
Tout me, doubt me, show me all of your power…  
I will watch you rise on my back from the ground,  
Friend or foe?  
I don't know, do you like what you've found?_

_Oh, show me low quotations, have you earned your stripes?  
Fabricate salvation, Lord, I know your type,  
I've known you all my life…_

_I was always wrong, you, all in white'_

The fake sun shone brightly down upon the strange company that stepped out of the darkness of the hallways into the open expanse of the sparring ground. As he left the gloom of the hallway Alejo was forced to narrow his eyes against the sudden onslaught of light. Today the sky seemed brighter than usual, the ground floodlit as though Aizen had turned up the sun full force to illuminate this battle. He followed his master out into the training grounds, the espada following behind them. Apparently this was not the first time something like this had taken place; everyone else seemed to know how to act. Alejo himself was lost and so he followed closely behind Aizen, waiting for a command.

New platforms seemed to have risen in a circle around the area, eleven in total. The podiums which represented ten espada and their master. He felt the atmosphere tense, like something unspoken in the air which gave them their command. The espada moved off, so fast that none could be seen beyond a blur as each took their place atop a platform. Only Yammy and Aizen remained, standing beside him upon the dusty ground. He suddenly felt very small, scrutinised like an ant beneath the heavy stares the other arrancar directed down upon him.

Aizen turned to him. He felt a bolt of electricity run down his spine as their eyes connected. The rays of the sun suddenly turned cold upon his skin and he shivered despite himself. Aizen smiled his slow, icy smile and Alejo felt the corners of his lips twitch as he rose to the challenge. He squared his shoulders, shaking off the cold shivers, and held the gaze.

'There is no time limit.' Aizen spoke slowly, deviously as his gaze flicked between the two. 'There are no rules. This fight ends when either one of you ceases to be.' To lose was to die, there was no returning from failure when it came to Aizen.

Alejo nodded his head ever so slightly, his expression set and determined. Yammy just snorted as he cracked his neck, already so assured of his victory. There was no way some scrawny little arrancar barely past his teething stage could defeat him, he who had fought and clawed his way up the ranks through sheer brute strength and mercilessness. And he would show no pity here. He would tear the redhead to pieces without even breaking a sweat, of that he was sure. The great hulking espada caught Aizen's gaze upon him and smirked, receiving naught but a cold, indifferent stare in return. The ex-captain wanted him to lose, perhaps even expected it. Yammy knew that. This was just another one of his tests and it made him a little uneasy that he did not know which of them was being tested. But nevertheless he would not fail. He could not lose to this child.

Aizen moved off, in less than an instant he stood atop the largest podium and Alejo barely managed to follow the movement. His black and yellow eyes narrowed as he squinted up at his master, always so high above him. The platforms seemed so precarious, he knew them to be weak constructions at best as he and Grimmjow regularly broke several of them during their sparring battle. He wondered if he could break that particular structure, if he could bring Aizen down to his level for even a moment. His eyes alighted upon the empty podium beside the ex-captain and he understood that the aim was not to bring him down, but to ascend to his level. He would rise to stand beside him. He would not fail. He could not lose to the beast.

His stomach tightened, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up at the sensation of movement behind him. He twisted his body to meet the impact as suddenly Yammy was upon him, all 667 lbs of his colossal frame intent on crushing the very life from his body. He wasn't quite quick enough to dodge the blow entirely, it had been unexpected and he scowled at the disrespect of the tenth espada attacking an unwary opponent. But this method of battle was fine by him, if the other was going to show no decorum then he would deliver the same treatment right back at him.

He coated his body with reiatsu as he met the blow, the impact lessened but still present. It threw him backwards but at the same time repelled Yammy from him. He felt a dull ache in his chest and knew that if he hadn't shielded himself his ribcage would have been all but destroyed by that tremendous force.

Alejo moved quickly in anticipation of another hit. Yammy's power lay in his incredible strength but his huge frame slowed him down to a fault. Alejo was small and fast and he could use that to his advantage here. He ducked beneath his fist and, before the larger arrancar could react, dealt a fierce uppercut to the underside of his mask covered chin. He felt a slight pain spark in his hand as his knuckles were cut by the sharp bone of his mask but the discomfort was quickly forgotten when Yammy's head snapped back and the tenth let out a grunt of pain.

He retreated quickly as Yammy came around again and frowned softly at how fast his recovery had been. A lesser being would have lost their head or broken their neck from that strong blow and he realised that he may have underestimated him somewhat. He jumped backwards to avoid the next jab, but the other arrancar's guard was up and he wasn't quite able to get beneath those fists this time.

He could feel Yammy's rage rising with every missed punch and knew that he could use that to his advantage. He taunted him with his agility, moving swiftly from side to side to avoid each swing of his fists, smirking when he heard the great beast growl low in frustration. He waited until the larger arrancar threw a punch powered by rage and allowed him to throw himself off balance. In a quick motion Alejo zipped behind him and, whistling shrilly, sent a succession of bala blasts shooting from between his lips. The blasts burned through the white cloth of his jacket but barely marked the thick surface of the tenth's skin. Yammy felt the stinging blows against his back and roared as he swung his body round, his anger building as the redhead flittered around him like a gnat that he longed to crush.

From upon high Aizen watched the proceedings unfolding and smiled. For a being so used to using brute strength and sheer stubbornness of will to win battles Alejo had quickly learned to fight tactically. He had swiftly worked out Yammy's weakness and was gleefully exploiting it as he danced just outside of his reach. Starrk's lessons had evidently done him a world of good, teaching him to think strategically to outwit his opponent. The redhead hadn't even begun to show his true strength yet, his sword still drawn by his hip.

Yammy turned to meet him, and this time Alejo did not dodge. He was growing weary of this game. Running was not his style and now it was time to stand and fight. He held his ground as the giant swung his great fist towards him, and he caught it. Yammy's eyes widened in surprise as he found his momentum halted by a much smaller hand splayed out against the curled knuckles of his own.

Alejo's eyes were shaded by his red hair, his face titled downwards slightly as the long strands moved in the breeze created by the swinging of fists. The ground cracked and broke beneath his feet as a shockwave burst forth from the giant's fist where it connected with his own, throwing up great clouds of sand and dust. For an instant everything went silent, the atmosphere tensing and pulsating with opposing powers.

Alejo pushed against the huge fist and Yammy recoiled, partly from the pressure being exerted on his hand and partially out of a strange sense that cut through his anger. For an instant the icy hand of fear took ahold of his stomach, but it was swiftly melted away by his boiling, blinding rage. Alejo's eyes were alight as they connected with his opponents.

'Release.'

His voice was low, dangerous to match the glint in his eyes. Grimmjow felt a shiver run across his skin where he sat. He glanced at Aizen. The ex-captain's expression was set but his eyes were alert, the small expression betrayed a manic excitement bubbling just below the surface. His attention snapped back to the battle as Yammy growled low in his throat.

'I do not need to use my full power to take down the likes of you.' He spat as he took another swing that hit nothing but air.

'I could kill you as the tenth espada, but I don't want that title.' Alejo mocked him as he dodged another blow. His eyes narrowed and a cruel, familiar smirk crept across his face. 'I'm going to take your _cero_ from you.'

'Rude little brat!' Yammy roared as his rage overflowed. His hand flew to the hilt of his sword. 'I'll show you the meaning of fear and pain.'

Somewhere deep in his soul Alejo shivered, knowing that he already knew the depths of that meaning, and that it was beyond anything that Yammy could do to him.

'_Be enraged_, Ira!' The beast roared as he drew his zanpakutō from its sheath. Smoke and dust billowed forth as his power exploded around them. Alejo found himself blown backwards by an outpouring of wind and he jumped up into the air, landing deftly down upon his feet. The smog surrounded him, blocking his vision, but through the swirling mass of dust particles he could _feel_ him. His reiatsu had burst forth, cracking and breaking and becoming a swirling, half formed pulsating mass that assaulted him from out of the cloud.

The dust cleared somewhat as a sudden strong wind blew across the battleground, enough for him to see the great frame through the dirt.

He was huge. He towered above the platforms with ease, higher than the espada, higher than even Aizen. The number on his shoulder had cracked, the dark ink of the '1' fragmenting and flaking away into the dust and dirt. His entire lower jaw was coated in bone now, his broken mask fused to his face to the point that it had become indistinguishable from his jaw. His teeth seemed bigger, sharper, behind his thick lips. The red marks of his cheeks were gone, replaced by thick red lines which ran from the corner of his eyes round the back of his head. The ridges upon his head had become larger, the colour changing to a strange purplish grey. Thick tube-like protrusions formed upon his elbows, giving the appearance of pistons protruding from his arms. He had eight legs now, extending back from his torso along a long spine like a monstrous elephant-centipede hybrid. A club like tail had formed at the base of his spine and swung from side to side in a snake-like manner. His clothes were ripped away, all but gone save for a ragged dark red loincloth.

Alejo's eyes widened, his mind searching for a weakness at the same time as he took in each minute change of his horrific form.

The colossal frame shot towards him as Yammy stomped downwards with his many feet, like a giant trying to squash an ant. In a split second Alejo moved, shooting up into the air so that his body became level with Yammy's head. The cero roared in anger and moved to grab him, to crush him in a giant fist. But he missed. Alejo moved to avoid being caught and in one swift movement drew his sword and cleaved outwards. The steel cut through the protrusion of his right elbow, slicing it clean from his body.

Alejo backtracked to avoid the retribution that came fast and hard as the beast roared and swiped at him. Yammy felt rage burn in his stomach like never before. His arm was on fire with pain and it only fuelled his anger further.

'Go ahead.' He growled as he hit out at the redhead who danced in the air before him, moving this way and that way to avoid his reach. 'Piss me off more, more, more... It's only gonna make the way you die all the more messy.'

Alejo swung his sword as he moved faster than the eye could see, so fast that even the espada below had a hard time following his movements. Each slash cut at the great beast and drew fresh blood and anger from swallow wounds which served only to sting the surface of the monsters skin.

And then, in a motion fuelled by rage, Alejo was hit.

Yammy feinted left but followed through with his right, catching him by surprise. Alejo felt the gigantic fist connect as he was propelled backwards through the air. His body connected hard with a building, smashing straight through the stone wall and out the other side as though it were naught but paper. He managed to shield himself a little as he hit the ground but still found the wind knocked from his lungs.

The pain from the blow and his subsequent trip through two walls was delayed, it hit just before he crashed into the floor, shooting through his body and greeting him like an old friend. He choked back a growling cry as he clawed his way back into a sitting position, instantly alert for an incoming attack. His eyes darted from side to side but he could feel little and see less through the cloud of dust and debris that he had created by his landing. Struggling to draw in a great gasp of breath, he knew that he didn't have time to sit around but found it extremely difficult to stand back up again, his legs unwilling to hold him.

His body screamed as he fought to stand. Ribs were on fire and he knew that they had been broken this time. A head wound dripped blood down into his right eye even as he rubbed it away with the back of his hand. His vision swam where it was not obscured by red as he struggled swaying to his feet. His legs trembled, but they held. His arms shook, one hung limp by his side where he had landed upon it, the broken bone loudly and obtrusively making itself known as he flexed his fingers. Strands of red hair fell down across previously white cloth now ripped and dirtied by blood and sand. His winded chest rose and fell as he took deep panting breaths, bracing himself against his sword to allow himself to stand.

From upon high the espada watched, teeth gritted in anticipation. This could not be all the fight Alejo had in him. Even those who disliked him did not believe that. He had been broken before but it seemed impossible that he could fall like this.

Grimmjow knew. He did not doubt even as he saw the redhead struggle to stand. That had been one hell of a punch, but the kid had taken worse before. Much worse. He was still standing; neither his sword nor his resolution was broken. And that was all he needed to keep fighting.

Yammy took a deep breath as he spotted the tiny arrancar through the dust cloud on the floor before him. He directed all his power, all his anger into his mouth, building a tight red ball of power in the back of his throat. Alejo felt the power surge and saw Yammy's gaping mouth lit by red. But he was not scared. He felt the pain, but beneath it was the knowledge that it was not nearly the worse pain he could imagine, and certainly not the worse that he had ever felt. He could already feel the bones and flesh within him stitching back together, healing over. He could feel the swell of great and terrible power within him.

He stood his ground, cocking his head as he watched the power building in the beast's mouth. He shut his eyes and blocked everything out. It was something Starrk had taught him, a form of meditation, a way of clearing his mind. He felt the hum of the reiatsu building within Yammy's huge bulk and reached out, losing himself within the flow of power as he began forming something inside of him.

Yammy's thick eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The cero he was building was huge; its range would be vast, too wide for even the quick little arrancar insect to escape. Yet he just stood there, eyes shut, completely expressionless. He would have laughed at him if not for the obstruction in his mouth.

For a moment they stood there, silently facing each other down until the power built to the breaking point.

Alejo opened his eyes and faced the cero as it was released. The red ball of pulsating reiatsu shot forth from Yammy's mouth, wide enough to obliterate the entirely of the immediate surroundings. The pillars upon which the espada stood shattered, their occupants had already moved off in anticipation of the attack and the buildings crumbled to pieces, falling to the ground. Aizen did not move. The cero washed over his body and the pillar upon which he stood with seemingly no effect.

Alejo did not move either. He did not flee along with the rest of the arrancar. He stood his ground and met the blow head on. The reiatsu which had been building in his stomach washed out over his body, his defensive hierro coating his skin and shielding his body from the flames. The cero burned around him but did not touch him. His body trembled from the outward pressure; his skin was on fire. As he felt the power wash up against him he grabbed a hold of it, reaching out with his own reiatsu and merging with it.

The observing espada trembled as they watched Alejo draw Yammy's cero into his own body, turning the giant arrancar's power into his own. Aizen just smiled that same cruel smile as he watched, the dancing fire reflected in his eyes. The redness of the cero dimmed as quickly as it had bloomed, dissipating into the redhead's body as he drew it all in.

Alejo's eyes snapped open, and even Yammy felt fear at the expression upon his face. But he didn't have time to react before Alejo _screamed_, loud and high enough to shatter glass as the espada found his own cero fired back at him. He felt his fire bearing down upon him and knew that there was no way that he could move his huge body out of the way in time. He barely had time to harden his hierro before it hit him, the force of the shockwave knocking him backwards. He stumbled slowly and awkwardly, tripping over his huge cumbersome legs as he fell. He roared in anger as his body hit the hard dusty ground. Hot, white pain shot through him. He hadn't quite managed to shield himself entirely from the cero and it had found his weak spot, tearing his hard flesh to pieces.

Alejo alighted on the ground beside him as he surveyed the damage.

A bloody great hole had cut out its home in the side of Yammy's neck, nearly separating his head from his body. The ragged red flesh of his insides was on display, and Alejo knew that he was done. Their eyes met just as Yammy's rolled into their sockets and he let his head fall back to join his body on the ground. The thump echoed out into the sky even as the impact kicked up huge clouds of dust around them.

Suddenly everything was silent, so quiet that all Alejo could hear was the beating of the blood in his ears and the ragged, final breaths of the great beast.

The pains of his body resumed their symphony now that the adrenaline was fading. He could still feel warm fluid dripping down his face and see red blurring the corner of his vision. He took a deep breath and his ribs screamed. He coughed and could taste blood warm and sticky in his mouth. He spat the red onto the floor to join the steadily building pool of Yammy's blood as he turned from his fallen opponent, gazing up into the bright sun. Squinting against the light, he searched for a figure silhouetted against the sky as the dirt and dust settled around him.

But suddenly the rhythm of dying breathing changed behind him. He whipped his body round just as the great hulk of fallen arrancar began struggling to rise again out of the dust and debris.

'That… hurt.' Blood gurgled up in Yammy's throat, pouring from the wound even as he spoke. 'You _really_… piss me off.'

Alejo's eyes widened as the cero threw his arms up to the sky. A powerful wind was being whipped up around him by the sheer force of the reiatsu he was expelling as his laboured breathing turned to roars.

'_Unforgivable_…' he muttered as he seemed to grow even taller above the smaller arrancar. '_Unforgivable_…' His tone was manic now, his eyes lost in insanity and his expression twisted even as fresh blood splattered down to paint the ground with each uttered syllable. 'UNFORGIVABLE!' He roared and there was an explosion of dust and wind and reiatsu that whipped up around his huge body.

Alejo jumped back instinctively, the swirling pulsing mess of power that formed the eye of that storm was intense in its sheer madness and _rage. _He had never felt anything like it before in his life, and as he witnessed the cero's transformation he knew that he had never seen anything like it before either.

If Yammy had been a giant before then there were no words left to describe him now. His body had completely transformed once again, all traces of previous damage gone from it. His mask had re-formed. Horns curved around the top of his head. His jaw was entirely coated in bone now, running into his teeth which were huge and jagged like a crocodile's. His hateful eyes were framed by cracks and two enormous horns protruded from his back like strange flightless wings. His arms were longer, thicker. His extra sets of legs were gone, his tail still present but missing the studded club at its end. But it was his size more than anything which took Alejo aback, it seemed impossible to him that something so huge could live in a world so small and unsuited to its needs.

But he did not fear him, for all his terrifying change. His wound may be gone, but Alejo had seen all he needed to. If Yammy could still bleed, he could still kill him.

'Anger itself is my power.' The beast laughed, his very breath whipping up storm winds around the tiny arrancar. 'You can't defeat me if all you're doing is pissing me off.' Alejo narrowed his eyes as he braced himself facing into the unnatural wind, a strange feeling icing over his insides. Something in the back of his mind was screaming at him, coaxing him to fall into that dark place.

'_Anger huh?' _A little voice scratched at him out of the darkness. _'You've got something much darker than that in you.'_

Yammy's great fist flew towards him, all of his power thrown behind it. This was the final blow; if he was hit, he would not be standing back up from it.

'_Something much more powerful.'_

The punch never reached him. Alejo threw all of his power into his trembling legs as he propelled himself upwards, higher than ever before, higher than Aizen upon his pedestal, higher than the great beast that was his opponent. And as he thrust his sword up into the sky he took a breath, and let the dark power flow in.

Yammy's fist hit the ground and for one gleeful moment he thought that he had finally hit the redhead, but as he lifted his hand he saw no blood, no mangled body. His eyes narrowed as he growled, and suddenly he felt his stomach drop as a dark power swirled above him. He looked up and his opponent was upon him, his arms thrown back as he swung his sword in an arching motion. Their gaze met and Alejo's eyes burned silver.

His blade was on fire, black flames burned upon the steel as his power built and condensed, and as his power gathered so his form changed. Three thick black lines swept outwards from the hole in his chest, curving out to his shoulders and up into his collarbones. Flames sparked and burnt upon his wrists and shoulders, licking the skin but leaving no mark upon it. Yammy's eyes widened as that sword came swinging down. Alejo didn't even have to scream its name to draw out the power of the move. Indeed it was his signature, a devastating crescent power that each observer knew and feared.

_Getsuga tenshō._

The crescent moon slammed into Yammy's huge bestial bulk and Alejo followed through with his blade. The two powers cleaved him from head to toe, splitting his huge body clean in two. For a moment it held, the two halves swaying even as they tried desperately to knit back together. But this was the end. They fell apart as Yammy's consciousness departed, crashing into the ground and spilling forth dark fluid across the floor of the battleground.

Alejo landed hard into that lake of blood and if not for the use of his sword would've fallen into it entirely. That crescent moon had taken the last vestiges of his energy from him and he could feel weakness creeping back into his limbs as the pain of his injuries flared. But still he stood, holding his head high as his master approached in the aftermath, walking through the blood without gathering so much as a stain upon his clothes. The espada stood back, most taking their leave now that the carnage was done. A few stayed, hovering at the edge of the mess that had once been their comrade.

A cold smile greeted Alejo as Aizen stood before him. He pushed his weight from his sword and sheathed it, still standing despite the fatigue in his bones. He bowed down before his lord, offering the blood of the battle as sacrifice to him. Pleased, Aizen commanded him to straighten up.

'Rise, Alejo.'

He lifted his head, finding himself once again hopelessly trapped by those dark eyes. Aizen regarded him curiously, as though taking in his new form. He nearly gasped as cold fingertips brushed along the black lines that swept outwards from his hollow hole. The flames that had sparked across his skin burned out at the icy touch. The upper half of his clothing was all but ripped away, leaving naught but a dirtied white sleeve still attached, and his torso shivered beneath Aizen's fingers. The ex-captain let his hand fall away as he smirked, as though pleased by something he had just discovered.

'Congratulations,_ cero_.'

Alejo felt his own lips crack in a smile as his new title was confirmed. Aizen motioned for him to follow as he turned from him, making his way across the ground still untouched by blood and dirt.

Alejo followed, finding new energy in the wake of that acknowledgement. As they passed the few remaining espada he caught Grimmjow's eye. The sexta felt cold strike his soul like a lightning bolt at the expression in his eyes, still shining silver as the power burned through him. With it came a bitter understanding of the cruelty contained deep within the redhead's soul. And as his eyes flickered to Zangetsu he realised that, despite defeating the most powerful of the espada at his most dangerous, Alejo had not needed to release his sword. His resurrección remained contained in that blade, and Grimmjow almost felt fear at how far apart their level had become. He was so high now that for a moment he wondered if even Aizen could still reach him.

He watched his partner leave, following their master back through the dark arch of the doorway, back into the bowels of Las Noches, and knew deep down that the Alejo that he had known was never coming back out of that abyss.

* * *

_A/N: Hoorah for my first proper fight scene! It ended up way longer than planned but I think it worked. Next update may take a while, but hope you're all still enjoying the current direction. We are getting close(r) to the climax of the story, but that being said there's still a lot to get through before the end. I'm estimating we'll get to at least 30 chapters, which is very exciting._

_As always, thanks for reading and I'd love to hear what you thought of this chapter/the story in general._

_Until next time,  
K.  
_


	25. You're Going Down

**Chapter 25****: You're Going Down**

_'I feel the heat comin' off of the blacktop_  
_And it makes me want it more_  
_Because I'm hyped up out of control_  
_If it's a fight, I'm ready to go_  
_I wouldn't put my money on the other guy_  
_If you know what I know that I know_

_It's been a long time coming_  
_And the table's turned around_  
_'Cause one of us is going_  
_One of us is going down_  
_I'm not running,_  
_It's a little different now_  
_'Cause one of us is going_  
_One of us is going down'_

Alejo followed his master down the white corridors, once so abstract now solid, their passageways forming an immovable map in his mind. He knew vaguely where they were, but he did not know where they were going. They were currently in the accommodation wing, the area of the palace where the espada and their fracción had their quarters, but they were not headed in the direction of the lodgings that he shared with Grimmjow.

Aizen had not spoken a word since they had left the bright lights and blood stained dirt of the battleground. Alejo followed silently behind him, only limping ever so slightly. The battle had taken its toll, but his incredible stamina and impressive healing capabilities kept him standing, kept him moving unknowingly down identical white corridors on the heel of his master. He did not falter, though his breath came in short, silent gasps and exhalations. Aizen's pace was quick, as though he was testing him, another challenge that Alejo was determined not to fail.

When the silence eventually broke he was momentarily startled, the deafening whiteness of the palace walls suddenly cracked by Aizen's cold, neutral voice.

'Tell me Alejo, what do you know about the espada's aspects of death?'

'Aspects of death?' Alejo echoed the words back at him, a wary question contained in his voice. Aizen kept walking, not once looking back.

'Each espada is given one, a facet of death most fitting of their individual character.'

'Oh.'

A momentary silence passed between the two, no noise but the soft echoing of the clicking of heels upon marble floor. Alejo remembered Starrk saying something about that, but he had never divulged any details beyond the vague notion of the concept itself. He had briefly wondered what Grimmjow's personality represented but had not dared to ask; somehow he did not think that 'asshole' counted as a characteristic of death.

Aizen's steps halted suddenly and Alejo instinctively followed suit, stopping silently behind him in the blank white corridor.

'Do you want to know what yours is?' Aizen spoke without turning to face him, and though his voice remained neutral Alejo could feel a dreadful heaviness contained in those words.

'Yes, Aizen-sama.'

Aizen turned around. A curious expression laced his face, something between compassion and disgust. To Alejo it felt entirely faux.

'Sorrow, Alejo. It is sorrow.' Something deep inside of Alejo gripped at him at those words. He felt slightly sick and confused as he felt a warm hand take hold inside his stomach. Aizen continued, 'You have experienced such loss, so deeply rooted within your soul that it defines you. Remember that, and fight so that you do not lose anything more.' For a moment he looked as though he was going to reach out towards him, but seemed to think better of it.

'Yes.' Alejo spoke the word with difficulty, fighting to breathe against the obstruction in his insides.

Aizen smiled.

'We have arrived.'

The heaviness of their conversation dissipated in the instant that he spoke. He gestured to the wall, a door that Alejo had not noticed before suddenly making its presence known, as though it had just appeared out of a previously unblemished white wall. Alejo scowled softly in confusion as he turned his attention back to his master.

'Where?'

'Your new lodgings.' A soft smile curved the corners of Aizen's lips.

'New lodgings?'

'Surely you did not think I would let my _cero _continue to share quarters with the _sexta_ like a mere fracción? No, you have earned your own place here, and this is it.'

Aizen gestured towards the door but did not move to open it, making it clear that this moment was for Alejo alone to uncover. Alejo looked at the door; it was like all the others in Las Noches, white, plain, and without any kind of conceivable handle. It did not need one; it would open only for its masters. Yet somehow this door was different. This door was meant for him and him alone. Beyond it lay his prize, his home. Perhaps this was the thing he had been searching for all along, the place where he finally belonged.

He reached out a hand and pressed lightly upon the join where the door met the wall. It slid open without making a sound, revealing the room that lay beyond it, the new symbol of his world.

He stepped inside.

In keeping with the rest of the palace, everything was white, glaringly so as the room was lit by artificial lights. The furniture, the walls, the floor, the sheets upon the bed, all white. It was much bigger than Grimmjow's quarters. There was more floorspace and, though it was furnished in a similar manner, seemed more luxurious also. The bed was bigger, the mattress thicker. The window larger too, the windowsill big enough to sit comfortably upon. There was a small table beside the bed, a wardrobe, a desk, an armchair, a couple of sofas, a thick black rug upon the white floor, all the basics that an arrancar could possibly need to be comfortable. On the wall beside his bed was a weapon stand, and he knew without needing to try that Zangetsu would fit perfectly into it. In the corner of the room stood another door leading into what he assumed to be the bathroom, blindingly white and similarly spotless.

He turned to see Aizen regarding him, a soft, unreadable expression playing upon his face.

'Open the wardrobe.' He commanded gently. 'Look inside.'

Alejo took his first few hesitant steps inside, aware that his feet and the hem of his robes were still bloody from his victory. But they made no mark upon the floor; somehow things never seemed to get dirty here no matter how hard he tried.

Inside the wardrobe hung a row of identical white outfits, much the same as they had in his wardrobe before. But these were different; he didn't even need to take a close look to know that. He took out a set and walked over to the bed, laying it down and smoothing out the cloth to admire it.

The jacket was high collared with a low neckline; low enough that he knew that when on it would dip low enough to fully expose his hollow hole. It fastened almost seamlessly across the chest, coming apart again just above the waistband. Simple black lines ran down from the shoulders and the chest, frightening similar to the black marks that now radiated out from the hole in his chest. The jacket was completed by a simple white hakama, tied with a jet black waistband. It was simple and clean cut, yet radiated with it a new sense of authority.

He could feel the weight of Aizen's gaze upon him as he regarded his new uniform. He made a show of admiring it, running his eyes and fingers along every inch. Aizen took a weird sense of pleasure from things like this. Everything neat and in place and matching and organised. Everything to his design.

Alejo turned to face him and was helplessly caught within that gaze, like a bug in amber.

'Do you like it?'

'Yes.' Alejo declined his chin ever so slightly, dropping his head in a mark of gratitude. 'Thank you.'

Something flickered in Aizen's expression. He reached out his hand to touch the base of Alejo's chin. Gently he pushed his head back up. Their eyes met. Aizen's thumb began to stroke lightly along the curve of his cheek. He spoke softly, almost tenderly, a tone that Alejo had never heard from his master before. But as always there was that dangerous undercurrent to his voice, the sound of which made Alejo's stomach turn.

'You are the most powerful of the espada now; there is none above you but me. That means that no-one but me has a claim to you, understand?'

Alejo shivered at those words, at the unsaid meaning contained within them. That light, murmured tone which contained such heavy words. The gentle hand upon his skin stirred up fragmented memories which he knew had never existed.

'Yes Aizen-sama.'

'You are no longer bound to Grimmjow. You have gone beyond what he can teach you. Nor should you refer to Starrk any longer. From now on you report to me alone.' There was possessiveness there, beneath the surface, reminding Alejo of his place. The shivers came again, running afresh across his skin like electricity. 'Together we shall complete your training.'

He found himself turning his cheek towards the gentle touch, unconsciously leaning into it. But as he did the sensation was lost. Cold air replaced a cold hand as Aizen turned to leave.

'Rest now.' He murmured as he paused at the door, resting one hand on the doorframe as he turned back to lay his sharp gaze upon Alejo once more. 'We still have a lot of work ahead of us.'

And with that he was gone, leaving Alejo alone in the wake of all that had happened. A cold sensation burnt upon his cheek to remind him of his master's touch. He could still taste blood in his mouth, could feel it weighing down his hair and clothes like the remnants of battle. He ran his fingers through his hair and grimaced at how it was matted by blood and dirt. It was definitely time to get cleaned up.

He made the most of his new home, starting with the bathroom. Even it was huge, easily twice the size of the one he had shared with Grimmjow. If this was the size of the cero's quarters he could only imagine how large Aizen's must be, or Gin or Tōsen's for that matter. He did not know exactly where Aizen stayed, somehow nobody did, his private domain encompassing a section of the palace that no-one else could access or seemingly even perceive. But he knew that it was not in this section, nor anywhere near it. His master did not like to associate on any kind of personal level with those he saw to be beneath him.

He hummed a formless tune as he scrubbed himself in the shower, letting the events of the day wash over him like the hot water. He took his time cleaning his hair, rubbing a soapy substance through the long thick strands, teasing out the many tangles with his fingers, making sure to wash the fragments of the battle safely away down the plughole where they would bother him no longer. Grimmjow always mocked him for the care he took over his hair but he shrugged it off. He smiled to himself as he remembered that he could shrug off a lot more from Grimmjow now.

He let his fingers trace upon the new black lines, inked upon his chest like a tattoo. Another decorative mark to add to the collection. To him they were trophies, something indicative of whatever power it was that had been unleashed during that battle. He let his fingers trace along the edge of his mask. It felt different somehow, as though it had cracked or fragmented in the face of the punishment taken in the fight. But in the mirror it looked much the same, though he could swear that the tip of his broken horn seemed shorter than before.

It was a strange feeling, to suddenly have so much power bestowed upon him. He didn't feel any different, but in a matter of minutes his life had changed. Amongst the arrancar power and status was everything and here he had gone from lackey to the sexta to the head of the espada. Everything would change now, not just the new quarters and the new clothes, everyone's perception of him would change. He would be treated differently by everyone, particularly Aizen.

He had spent a good amount of his thinking time in the shower trying to work out the meaning contained in the touch that had passed between the two of them in the bedroom, but try as he might he could not pin it down. It must be nothing, but the way he had spoken and the cool, familiarity of that touch had Alejo rattled, and just a little excited by the whole thing. In the end he had decided not to waste too much thought upon it, as Aizen had said he still had a lot of work to do. He had gained his new position in one bloody instant and now he had to live up to it.

As he towelled himself dry his thoughts slipped back to what Aizen had told him. The one thing he still did not understand was the loss that he had spoken of. Alejo was sorrow, but he didn't know why. His life had been short and, for the most part, contained and uneventful. He wasn't sure that he even truly understood was loss was, having never lost anything beyond the buttons off his uniform. Perhaps such knowledge would come in time; he wouldn't put it past Aizen to have some form of clairvoyance stowed away with the rest of his powers. But there was one thing he had understood,

'…_fight so that you do not lose anything more.'_

He had a place now; he had a master and comrades, perhaps even friends, if an arrancar could possibly have such things. He would fight to protect all that he had, for now he had the power to do so.

He sat down upon the bed, jiggling up and down slightly as he tested out the mattress. Very comfortable, again it was much more luxurious than the one in his old room. Feeling lethargy tug at his bones he yawned and stretched out, feeling his muscles groan and his joins crack and pop as he shook the exertions from his body. He crawled under the thick white sheets, hair still damp and body still nude from the shower, and gratefully accepted the warm blanket of sleep as it wrapped him in its arms.

He slept the sleep of the dead as his body healed and his reiatsu renewed itself. He would have gone on sleeping for a long time had he not been rudely dragged up from the depths by a heavy weight thumping down upon the bed next to him. Had it been an enemy his body would have snapped awake a long time before the intruder reached the bed, but it was not, and the reiatsu was so familiar to him that it did not ring as a threat any longer. He blinked sleep away as he struggled to focus in the dim light, seeing the colour of azure blue. He groaned sleepily as he frowned at the new arrival sitting upon the end of his bed.

'How'd you get in?'

'Window.'

Grimmjow's lips curled in a wicked grin as he moved to dodge the pillow thrown at his head by an irate espada.

'Leave me alone.' Alejo muttered as he turned his face back into the pillow. 'Tired.'

'Yeah, no wonder.' The grin upon the sexta's lips did not falter. 'That was quite a stunt you pulled back there.'

'Is that supposed to be admiration?' Alejo's voice was muffled by the pillow but it could not quite cover the sarcasm in his tone. Grimmjow laughed.

'You'll have to try a lot harder than that, cub.'

With his face buried in the pillow Alejo could not see what Grimmjow was doing. But he felt him crawl up the bed towards him and groaned huffily. Realising that the panther was not just going to go away he rolled over to face him, scowl firmly plastered on his face.

'I told you not to call me that.' His frown and the anger in his tone were overshadowed somewhat by his still damp hair sticking out in all directions and the blanket of sleep still heavy upon his face and in his eyes. Grimmjow smirked as the redhead blinked sleepily and angrily at him. He crouched on the mattress beside Alejo and continued talking as though he had not heard the other speak.

'Though I must admit, it did get my blood all stirred up. I wanted to fight you on the battleground but since you're in bed already…' He leered suggestively as he leant over him, gripping his wrists to pin him to the bed as he leant in close. Alejo felt warm breath tickling his cheek as he was pushed down against the bed, wrists trapped in a clinch that he knew he could easily break. His frown deepened.

'What do you think you're doing, sexta?' He growled softly, his tone edged with annoyance.

'What are you talking about?' Confusion and exasperation flitted across Grimmjow's face as he rubbed their noses together, their lips brushing ever so slightly.

'I outrank you.' The words were nearly whispered, amusement shining in his ochre eyes. He knew that this time he had Grimmjow beaten.

With hollows, sex was about power. It was instinct, the strong overpowering the weak, using them as they pleased in a display of strength and domination. And Grimmjow had just lost the right to dominate him. They both knew this, it was sheer animal instinct.

But Grimmjow was never one to submit without a fight, whether on the battlefield or in the bedroom.

'Don't get full of yourself cub.' He growled dangerously as he tightened the grip upon Alejo's wrists.

'Hmm,' A slow, amused smile crept across Alejo's lips. 'I think this makes you the _cub_ now.'

'Tch, don't kid yourself,' Grimmjow growled dangerously as he nipped gently at his bottom lip. 'you'll always be _his_ pet.' Alejo scowled momentarily, knowing exactly who Grimmjow was referring to. There was something in those words, that specific, mocking title, which stirred up memories of pain and anger which seemed to have no origin point. Something hot bubbled up from the pit of his stomach.

'Maybe…' Alejo moved his head to return the gesture. He caught Grimmjow's bottom lip between his teeth and bit down upon it, sucking it gently into his mouth. He felt a soft moan shudder through the larger espada's body and he smirked. 'But you'll be mine.'

'Fuck you.' Grimmjow's body stiffened in annoyance at the threat contained in Alejo's voice. He dug his nails into the skin of the redhead's wrists in response. Alejo's smirk just widened as he felt the nails dig in uselessly, no longer able to break the surface of his skin. In one swift movement he reversed their positions, flipping Grimmjow heavily over onto his back.

'With pleasure, _cub_.' He hissed the title in Grimmjow's ear before burying his face in the espada's thick neck, biting down just hard enough to break the skin. Now it was Alejo's turn to mark him.

Grimmjow growled in a mixture of pain and annoyance as he twisted his body uselessly beneath the smaller espada. Alejo had long been the stronger of the two, but he'd never had the authority to use his strength against Grimmjow before. But now he had his former master pinned by the wrists upon his bed. All bets were off and it was the sexta's turn to feel the sharp sting of submission before a stronger beast. He knew that obedience was not something that Grimmjow would take to willingly and relished the prospect of being the one, perhaps the only one, to top him.

He pressed his lips to Grimmjow's in a slow, teasing motion, swallowing the angry noises he made as he tried in vain to free his wrists from Alejo's tight grip. As if to humiliate him further Alejo pushed the blue haired arrancar's wrists together, holding them above Grimmjow's head with just one hand. He let his free hand run gently across the espada's body, circling teasingly around the curve of his hollow hole where he knew the most sensitive nerve endings were. The sexta spat and snarled as he tried to twist from his grip, even knowing as he did that it was useless to try.

He did not give Alejo the satisfaction of begging, still regarding him in his mind as an inferior being. Even when his clothes were ripped from him in the same way that he would tear cloth from the redhead's body and listen to him whine. Even when nails bit into his skin in a painful display of dominance, drawing red from the welts. Even when he found himself naked, pinned beneath a stronger beast upon white sheets. Even as thin fingers snaked downwards over muscle and flesh, raking nails across his hipbones, settling between his legs to stroke him slowly and intimately.

Alejo hummed in amusement at the expression on the sexta's face as he teased him, amazed at how good the reverse of roles felt. He had never been allowed to dominate before and now he could see the attraction. His free hand slid softly up and down Grimmjow's length, not giving him nearly enough stimulation to get off but enough to keep him hard and wanting. The elder espada's snarling was punctuated by groans now as Alejo stroked him teasingly slow. His body beginning to relax into the touch.

For a moment Alejo considered not preparing him, taking his former master dry and rough as he had done to him so often. But he could not bring himself to be so cruel; knowing already how painfully humiliating this was for the elder. Grimmjow's body snapped rigid as he felt that warm hand leave his length and move round behind him. His struggle renewed as he felt fingers press against his entrance. Swearing and struggling uselessly as the digits pushed in, clumsy and inexperienced in their preparation.

He bit his lip hard as Alejo pressed himself against his entrance. Their eyes met and still he did not plead for the readhead to stop. If he was forced to be submissive in body then he would remain defiant in silence.

Alejo smirked softly at the bold anger shining in Grimmjow's eyes. But all the anger in the world could not overcome the vast difference in strength between them now. He watched the sexta's face contort in a grimace of pain and rage as he pushed inside of him, the other's insides so warm and tight that he could barely breathe for a moment. Grimmjow growled at him, almost an expression of 'hurry up and get it over with'. He smirked back, deciding that he would not make this easy for the proud espada.

Alejo began to move, teasingly slowly at first as he got used to feeling the other around him. Little breathy moans escaped from his lips and Grimmjow sneered at him through his stoic expression. He picked up the pace in response, moving harder and faster into the sexta, pushing deeper until he forced a strangled groan of pleasure from the other and knew that he was hitting the right spot.

Grimmjow bit down harder on his lip as he tried to ignore the pleasurable sensations, but every hard thrust of Alejo's hips hit him in just the right place and he could feel that animal pleasure pooling in the pit of his stomach no matter how hard he fought the rising sensation. Then his wrists were released as Alejo's hands moved to fist in his hair. Soft lips and hard teeth clashed against his mouth, a tongue tangled with his own and he forgot to resist.

They writhed together upon the sheets, frantic and animal in their dance. Grimmjow began pushing back, moving his hips to meet Alejo's motions, no longer a mere submissive in their interaction. Their breaths turned to moans, echoing in the vastness of the cero's chambers. Alejo moved his hand in clumsy motions against Grimmjow, fingers working him up and down until he came, warm and wet against their skin. Alejo felt his partner tighten around him and could not hold out his own end for much longer. He had to curb the urge to move harder and faster for fear of hurting the other with his overpowering strength but when he peaked he almost forgot to hold back, slamming harshly into the other as he emptied himself inside of him. Grimmjow grimaced in disgust as he felt hot liquid fill his insides, an unfamiliar and unpleasant sensation.

Breathing heavily, Alejo rolled off of Grimmjow and flopped face down on the bed beside him, his face buried in the pillow. Freed of his forced submission and the pleasure which had overwhelmed even his fierce pride, Grimmjow felt the hot burn of anger flare up inside of him once more, but was simply too tired to do anything about it. He looked over at his partner and saw the other already asleep, hair splayed over a sticky, sweat drenched back. Long eyelashes fluttering ever so softly as he breathed gently.

Tomorrow, he decided as his own eyelids began to slip closed, tomorrow he would teach Alejo a lesson. But for now it wasn't so bad, to lie here in the aftermath of the adrenaline rush and let the redhead's gentle breathing lull him to his own sleep.

He shifted ever so slightly and hissed as pain shot up his spine.

Yes, tomorrow he would make Alejo pay, that is if he could walk by then.

* * *

_A/N: So sorry this update took so long, I've been crazy busy this semester, and also had big problems with blocks on this one. I'm still not very happy with it but it's as good as I think I can make it for now. I can't promise the next one will be quicker but as always I'll try my best._

_Hope you guys enjoy regardless, it's lovely to still get comments/reviews for this fic even though it's not been very active these past few months._

_UPDATE: With this chapter this fic is officially over 100,000 words long! Woah! It's been a long time getting here so thanks for everyone who's still following after all these years. We are heading towards the ending now and I do hope you enjoy the rest of the ride._

_K._


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